PS 3511 
.E34 P4 
1919 
Copy 1 



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{Pendulum 



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BY 

GEORGE W. FELTS 





The Pensive Pendulum 

BY 

GEORGE W. FELTS 



THE CORBIN TIMES PRINT 

1919 

(Copyright Applied for) 






Preface. 



n^HIS little book includes various 
titles, and is sent into homes 
not for money, but intended to lift 
and inspire the minds and hearts of 
many to higher, happier and holier 
lives! In it are found the thoughts 
and ideas of my declining days. 

THE AUTHOR. 



C1A527283 



JUN \3\m 



INDEX. 



A Look at the Stars 39 

A Midnight Mistake G 

A Night of Watching 54 

Autumn : 4 

A Wonderful Place 79 

An Old Fashioned Mill 12 

Bv Which Are You Led? 62 

Be Ready 61 

Childhood Days 20 

Christmas Gifts 25 

Days Clone By 23 

Do You Remember? 26 

Dreamy Thoughts 73 

Earth 1 

Easter 16 

Farewell 81 

Good Friday 14 

He Got His Wish 5 

I'll Try 41 

In The Early Morning 32 

In The Shadowy Evening 33 

Is Life Worth Living? 44 

If We Could See 51 

Just Let Me Alone 35 

Looking Homeward 65 

Long Tongues 36 

Let Your Light Shine 68 

Mother 1" 

My Consolation 80 

Mother's Old Loom 18 

My Aim 63 

Memory 50 

Xo Standing Still .38 

Xo Dread in Heaven 71 

Our Lot Here 7 

Our Garments of Old 56 

Old Age ^8 

Passing by the Old Homestead 21 

Religion 49 



Retrospection 45 

Spring '. - 

Sinn me !• 3 

Scarttering Thoughts 45 

Swearing 27 

Strong Drink 28 

Since My Children Are Gone 52 

Sing On 60 

The Old Spring Path 9 

The Rocky Woodland 10 

The Old Wooden Cane Mill 11 

The River Laurel L3 

The Cry of Mothers 1 9 

The Light-Heart ed Boy 24 

The Flood 30 

The Rainbow 32 

The Preacher's Sideboards 40 

The River of Death 74 

The Unknown Path 43 

The Sandy Foundation 47 

The Bible 48 

The Pictures That Hang on the Wall 53 

Thinking of Home 22 

Thinking of Heaven 09 

Things That Are Not in Heaven 70 

This is Not Our Abiding Place 72 

That Bad Bee Swarm 8 

Touch Not 37 

Under the Sod 78 

War 2 r ) 

Winter 4 

When the Sun is Sinking 55 

Words and Actions 59 

We're Born To Die 64 

When Yon See You Must Die 66 

Where Ts Cod ? 67 

Where Will You Cross ? 75 

When Time Shall Be No More 77 

What I Had Rather Do 42 



*7§J)G Pensive Pendulum 



THE EARTH. 

Oh, say, what is this earth 

But a revolving ball, 
Where things all have their birth 
And die, both great and small? 

Oh, say, what is this earth 
But just a swinging ball, 

Where some may have their mirth: 
But it is mixed with gall? 

Oh, say, what is this earth? 

Is it a home for all, 
Where some are millions worth? 

But soon they, too, must fall. 

Isn't earth a nursery 

Of other worlds? Oh, yes; 

A land of misery 

And one of happiness. 

Isn't earth a planting place, 
To reap for worlds on high? 

For when we've run our race,^ 
Right then we're called to die. 

What are these earthly homes? 

A place to stay all night, 
And when the morning comes, 

Our homes will be in sight. 

Where we can always stay 
On plains above the skies; 

Or sink to always stay 
Down in the shrieks and cries. 



THE PENSIVE PENDtfLUM 



We understand this earth 
Is where dark storms will come; 

Oh, I when done with earth, 
Want a celestial home! 

It grieves us all, yon know, 
To take the parting hand; 

But as we're bound to go, 
Let's look for higher land. 



SPRING. 

Winter days have been closing, 
Spring melts their icy cup; 
The trees have been a-dozing, 
But now they're waking up; 
The woods are all a-ringing 
With many a sweet song ; 
For now the birds are singing, 
We hear them all day long. 

The w 7 inds are now a-blowing, 
And drying out the ground ; 
The flowers are a- growing, 
Soon plenty can be found; 
The grass has been a-sleeping 
Beneath its bed of snow; 
But out it is now peeping, 
Spring day will make it grow. 

Oh, the sweet blooming days! 
On earth so short they seem ; 
Oh, they can't last always, 
Here there's no lasting sunbeam ; 
Here the flowers bloom and die, 
Our friends soon pass away; 
Dark clouds oft hide the sky, 
There's many a stormy day. 

Oh, the sweet blooming time, 
Will, somewhere, always last; 
'Tis in some other clime, 
Above the howling blast; 



THE PENSIVE PENDULUM 



The icy winds don't blow, 
No winter of despair; 
No death up there, oh, no! 
No poison in the air. 



SUMMER. 

Sweet summer-time is here, 

And Clod seems very near; 

He smiles upon the earth 

And gives the flowers their birth; 

So now this land of ours 

Is clothed in leaves and flowers; 

But they will fade and die, 

And so must you and I. 

Sweet odoi-s in the air, 
They're floating everywhere; 
'Tis a lovely time, sure, 
Things look so bright and pure; 
But it does seem so strange 
That things so quickly change; 
These days must pass away — 
There'll be a darker day. 

All Nature seems to smile, 
'Twill last just for a while; 
The birds are on the wing 
And oh, how sweet they sing! 
They fly from tree to tree, 
Happy as they can be ; 
But they will shortly die, 
And so will you and I- 

Summer will pass away, 
There'll be a colder day- 
Sweet summer land of love 
Lies 'way somewhere above; 
Up there the flowers won't die, 
We'll not get sad and cry; 
' Oh, that's the place for me! 
There's where I long to be! 



THE PENSIVE PENDULUM 



AUTUMN. 

Summer is gone, Autumn is here, 

It is a lonesome time of year, 

Lonesome, but lovely, anyhow ; 

The leaves have changed their color now. 

Beautiful leaves can now be seen, 
There's brown and red, yellow and green; 
We know that they must fade and die, 
Fall to the ground, together lie. 

The forests seem robed for the tomb, 
Tlie flowers are now shedding their bloom; 
Things are changing, we plainly see 
Signs of decay on bush and tree. 

We hear insects of every sort, 
Chirping ere winter cuts them short ; 
Cool wind comes at the twilight hours; 
And it comes shaking down the flowers. 

It is already getting keen, 
And soon will make a change of scene; 
The leaves are falling here and there; 
See, now some trees are getting bare. 

Cold winter soon will come again, 
We'll gather in the fruit and grain, 
And we will lay away in store 
Until cold winter time is o'er. 

Jack Frost is mowing down the flowers, 
So death will strike these frames of ours; 
FloAvers bloom again when springtime comes, 
We'll live again in Heavenly homes. 



WINTER. 

Cold winter time has come; 
Sometimes our hands get numb ; 
Sometimes our feet do, too; 
I guess your nose looks blue. 



THE PENSIVE PENDULUM 



The days are short and cold, 
Our garments thin and old; 
Sometimes we're made to shiver, 
And like the tree, we quiver. 

There's snow now in the air, 
'Tis falling everywhere ; 
It fell all through the night, 
And looks so pure and white. 

The clouds look cold and high; 
The Avind goes whistling by; 
When clouds have fled away, 
The sky looks gold and gray. 

The sunnnw hangs so low, 
Won't melt the ice and snow; 
The frost falls from the trees 
When shaken by the breeze. 

The trees look cold and dead, 
For now their leaves they've shed; 
They're stripped and all alone, 
Like those whose friends are gone- 

They have no shelter now, 
While to cold storms they bow; 
Though poor our earthly homes, 
Still we must face what comes. „ 

And when earth's storms are past- 
For storms won't always last — 
We'll be among the blest, 
And have a place to rest. 



HE GOT HIS WISH. 

A boy was a -fishing- 

One warm, sultry night; 

And he was a- wishing 

That something would bite. 

Something singing a song, 
All around everywhere; 



THE PENSIVE PENDULUM 



He didn't have to wait long, 

They were so plentiful there. 
When it found the right bait, 

You bet it didn't wait; 
His pole was a-shaking, 

His flesh was a-quaking; 

Yes, one bit so hard, oh ! 

It was a mosquito. 



A MIDNIGHT MISTAKE. 

Father was always an early riser, but on the 
time about which I write he rose earlier than com- 
mon, It was nearly forty years ago. We had gath- 
ered in our corn, and had invited our neighbors to 
an old-fashioned corn-shucking on the next day. 
Father wanted to get up early and go to mill and 
get back before the men came in. Twenty-five min- 
utes after twelve father came to my bed with a 
light and asked what time it was, as T had a watch 
in my vest pocket by the bedside. I looked, but be- 
ing half asleep and my eyes half open, I mistook the 
minute hand for the hour hand and I said five 
o'clock. In a few minutes father was off to mill and 
mother up getting breakfast. The mill was one mile 
away on Lynn Camp Creek — Corbin is now built ur> 
all around the place where it stood; it was owned 
by James Mellargue, a true old friend of father's- 
He got up in the dead hours of night and went and 
ground my father's turn of corn. By that mistake 
I robbed father, mother, the whole family and the 
good old miller of hours of sleep, but I hope none of 
us are any worse off by it now. Since then, when 
anything important is on hand, I have tried to be 
wide awake with my eyes open. Boys, did you ever 
make any mistakes, or do anything which caused 
father or mother to lose hours of sleep? If you did, 
oh, for the sake of our dear parents, and for the 
sake of your immortal soul, never do it again. Be 
wide awake with your eves open, and don't drag 
father and mother down in sorrow to the grave. 

Parents and school teachers, be wide awake 
with your eyes open, for what you teach the rising 



THE PENSIVE PENDULUM 1 

generation will remain in their minds like burrs in 
^B^tLhers, be wide awake with your eyes 

;r:S^?u nufy help swell the — er 
of he blood-washed on the other shore or by being 
,lf ,s eep you may make a sad mistake that will 
rob koi Is of that eternal rest over on the Hills of 
God and cause them to sink into the regions of 

et %l n ght is for sleep, but when we are awake 
it pays to be wide awake, with our eyes open. 

OUR LOT HERE. 

Here it is toil, toil, toil; 

Yes, toil day after day, 
But it will soon be over, 

And we can rest always. 
Sometimes we get weary, 

And long to rest a while ; 

But the Lord doth cheer us, 

Yes, with a blessed smile. 

Oh it is work, work, work, 

Yes, work, year after year, 
But the end will come soon, 

And then we will leave here ; 
And go beyond the skies 
To that bright golden shoie, 
And meet with our dear ties, 

Then rest forevermore. 
For nearly sixty years 

IVe toiled through cold and heat ; 
Sometimes while shedding tears, 

Sometimes with heavy teet. 
Ofttimes there's many things 

It seems we're called to do, 
Sometimes sweet music nngs 

Sometimes things look so blue. 

Many are toiling now, 

While thinking of their son; 



THE PENSIVE PENDULUM 



The sweat is on our brow, 
Our race will soon be run. 

"Look up," the Savior said, 
"Look up toward the sky;' 

He said, "Lift up your head, 
Redemption draweth nigh." 



THAT BAD BEE SWARM. 

Yes, the time was long ago, 
And leaves were on the trees; 
I heard something roaring, oh ! 
It was a swarm of bees : 
They Avent o'er on the hillside, 
And settled on a tree; 
And we went and cut it down, 
To get the bees, you see. 

Ah, they went not in the gum, 
P>ut flew right in my face! 
And it seemed a thousand stung 
In every naked place. . 
I don't know what all I did, 
"Oh, Lord," I would have cried; 
But did not open my mouth, 
Afraid they'd get inside. 

I ran to a creek near by, 

To try to drown the bees ; 

I thought I would shortly die, 

If I didn't soon get ease; 

But at last I scratched them off, 

In this neck and face of mine 

There were so many stingers, 

I was like a porcupine- 

The pbet says that Heaven is 
"The land of milk and honey," 
But if there are bees up there, 
Thev couldn't be got with money 
I think they've lost their stingers, 
If bees are in that place; 
I guess they left them down here, 



THE PENSIVE PENDULUM 



That lime in this boy's face. 

Ah! if everybody knew 

Just how the things do hurt ; 

When in your naked face 

Or even through you shirt; 

And if preachers warned the folks 

That Satan kept mad bees, 

I think that every sinner 

Would bow upon his knees. 

Satan may keep bees that sting, 
Not honey makers, though ; 
That take hold and to you cling, 
And never will let go; 
They're down where demons dwell, 
Though Satan seems so clever, 
If we should go down to Bell, 
They will sting us forever. 



THE OLD SPRING PATH. 

It was a lovely evening. Beautiful flowers grew 
by the roadside and filled the air with their sweet 
perfume. Everything looked lovely; but I was alone 
and there was a touch of sadness lingering around 
my heart. I had just left a sick brother whom I 
never expected to see alive on earth again, and as I 
passed by where we had so often played long ago, 
my heart grew softer still. I was thirsty and wanted. 
to drink at the old spring that was down on the 
bank of a little creek, where I had so often gone 
with mother over half a century ago. The hillside 
had just been cleared up and burned off. The path 
was almost gone, just a little dent in the ground. I 
followed it to the brink of the creek and found the 
spring and drank of its cooling waters again; when 
dear old friends seemed so near that I knelt down 
there and prayed and wept like a child. 

The path was all turfed o'er, 

- Once trod by mother's feet; 

They pass that way no more ; 

She walks the golden streets. 



10 THE PENSIVE PENDULUM 



The path was dim, just a dent, 
By sacred feet once pressed, 
When to that spring she went, 
Before she went to rest- 

It wound adown the hillside, 

Ivy once grew so thick, 

AY here wildcats oft would hide, 

That lived along that creek. 

I passed by just in time 

To trace that path once fore, 

Where spruce once stood sublime, 

While winds in them would roar. 

I drank as at the first, 

When life was at its dawn; 

I drank and quenched my thirst, 

But now L was alone. 

Couldn't keep from shedding tears, 

Oh, no, I never tried! 

OkJ friends just seemed so near, 

I knelt down there and cried. 

We'll gather at that stream 

Ne'er again as of yore. 

The thought of Heaven's my theme, 

Where we'll drink and thirst no more. 

Drink from the Stream of Life, 

Drink at the fountain head; 

Up where they know no strife, 

And tears are never shed. 



THE ROCKY WOODLAND. 

There are scenes of long ago, 

It seems I can't forget; 
And as seasons come and go, 

I still remember yet 
A dear place that seemed so grand, 

Wmere birds would sweetly sing, 
There in that rocky woodland, 

Just down below the spring. 

About fifty years ago, 



THE PENSIVE PENDULUM 11 



We'd gather there and play; 
Yes, with all our cheeks aglow, 

Twas in our youthful days; 
But we didn't then understand 

Wha1 years to us would bring, 
When in that rocky woodland, 

Just down below the spring. 
There were rocks of many a kind, 

Some smoothe on which we'd play, 
With friends so good and kind, 

Oh, vyhere are they today ! 
Or hold on with youthful hand 

To those old grapevine swings, 
There in that rocky woodland, 

Just down below the spring. 
Beautiful trees there once grew, 
Swinging as wind passed by; 
Things have changed and we have, too, 

Flowers must bloom and die. 
We did not then understand, 

We were on so swift a wing; 
When in that rocky woodland, 

Just down below the spring. 
Those days are forever gone, 

To me the evenings come ; 
I am now almost alone, 

But soon I'm going home. 
Up 1<> thai Heavenly land, 

And hear the angels sing, 
Thai will eclipse the woodland, 

Just down below the spring. 



THE OLD WOODEN CANE MILL. 

The old wooden mill that ground up the cane, 
None of us will ever see it again; 
Our molasses we made, you understand, 
When the old cane mill w T as heard in the land. 

The rollers were turned from tw T o big, hard logs, 
Oh, yes, they were wood, and so were the cogs ; 
Could hear it squeak, something like a brass band, 
When the old cane mill was heard in the land. 



12 THE PiSNSIVE PENDULUM 



When wild pigeons would almost hide the sky, 
Tor I here were thousands in the days gone by; 
Then dear old father would give the command, 
Then the old cane mil] was heard in the land. 

When leaves were grown and were turning yellow, 
And apples were ripe and so good and mellow, 
What a good old time, just give me your hand, 
When the old cane mill was heard in the land. 

Acorns were plenty, the trees were bending; 
Oh, what rich blessings God was then sending! 
Mow with joy my heart was made to expand, 
When the old cane mill was heard in the land. 

When chestnuts were ripe and the trees were full, 
The burrs cracked open and easy to hull; 
Some boys in the trees, their pockets to fill, 
But let me around the old cane mill. 

The kettles were all along in a row r , 
Beneath was a trench where the fire did glow; 
We boiled while the juice from the mill would run, 
We'd boil and boil till the sorghum was done. 

The wooden cane mill was not here to stay, 
But we have something better far today; 
But when a boy 1 thought it was so grand. 
When the old cane mill was heard in the land. 

If I could be there again just for one day, 
Forget all about storms along the way; 
And have the dear old friends my heart to thrill, 
Like they did back there by the old cane mill. 



AN OLD-FASHIONED MILL. 

The old-time saw that ran up and down, 
The place where it stood 's uoav right in town 
Where they sawed and ground many a day, 
As water poured down, then glided away. 

There was an old grist-mill there, too, 
And beautiful trees around it grew; 



THE PENSIVE PENDULUM 13 



Gone are the trees that towered in the air, 
And so are the men who labored there. 

The dust that was cut by that old saw 
Was carried away by the waters below; 
All the good old sawyers of that day 
By storms of time have been swept away. 

When the creek was low the saw was still, 
For it was water that turned the wheel; 
And that made the saw go up and down, 
Yes, instead of going round and round- 

I know to you they may seem so strange, 
But fifty years ago have made many a change; 
In people, in homes, in other things, too, 
If you live to be old you'll find it true. 

It seemed that they then sawed very slow, 
But sticking to things " makes the mare go;" 
There were piles of lumber on the ground, 
And just lots of timber all around. 

But little sign now of that old mill, 
Thai once stood at the foot of the hill, 
( >n that little stream, Lynn Camp's its name, 
Its waters today flow on the same. 
Flows on like they did long years ago, 
But, oh, everything else has changed so ! 
Some times 1 think I'm not the same one 
Who oft was there and watched that saw run. 

Long years ago a man whose name was Lynn 
was attacked and murdered by some Indians while 
camping on the bank of the creek; hence the name, 
"Lynn Camp." 



THE RIVER LAUREL. 

The river, that crooked stream, 

That winds between the hills; 
It rushes on, it seems 
It never has been still. 



14 THE PENSIVE FHXDILUM 



It runs all through the day, 
And (lows on all nighl long; 

It is running away. 

And murmuring a song. 

That low, sad, rumbling sound 
I once did love to hear ; 

And I oft could be found 
Along that river somewhere. 

In its waters I have waded, 
When flowers along it grew; 

Those flowers,, long since faded, 
My haii- has faded, too. 

I've seen it rush and foam, 

When it was wild and strong; 

Among the rocks 'twould roam, 
I've watched it dash along- 

I've wandered by the river, 
Among the flowers and trees, 

When the leaves were a-quiver 
In the low, silent breeze. 

I've wandered by the river 
And seen the waters flow, 

When I was made to shiver 
In the cold wind and snow. 

I've fished along the river, 
My brother dear and I : 

Those days are gone forever — 
How swift they glided by! 

It will run on as long 
As rain fills up its cup, 

And murmur its sad song 
Until tires dry it up. 



GOOD FEIDAY. 

Let's think now what Good Friday means, 
'Twas brought about by crimes; 



THE PENSIVE PENDULUM 15 



Wickedness has caused dreadful scenes, 
Some back in Bible times. 

Look back today two thousand years, 

And view an awful sight ; 
There stands a crowd, some shedding tears, 

While it grows dark as night. 

The day on which the Savior died, 
When cleansing blood did flow ; 

The time when Christ was" crucified, 
Away back years ago." 

This day should be a solemn day, 

Sure as onward time rolls; 
For Jesus died the debt to pay, 

That hung o'er human souls. 

He died because His love ne'er fails, 

Oil, Tie's a friend we need! 
When He was pierced by rugged nails, 

His tender hands did bleed. 

The Son of God died on the cross, 
For naught that He had done; 

The world's wickedness, sin and dross, 
Laid on that Sinless One. 

"Forgive," He said before He died, 
"They know not what they do;" 

Then soldiers came and pierced His side, 
His friends it seems were few. 

"Woman," He said, "behold thy son; , ' 
It seems her heart would break; 

As He hangs there, her Sinless One, 
The earth begins to quake. 

Then darkness gathers o'er the land, 

And Jesus bows His bead: 
It is. finished as it was planned; 

They see that he is dead. 



16 THE PENSIVE PENDFLFM 



Christ died fallen man to redeem; 

So now salvation's free ; 
Oh, yes, we know tliis is no dream, 

Christ died on Calvary. 



EASTER. 

Early one morn two women went 
To the grave of their Lord so dear: 

But the angel had just been sent, 
And said to them, "He is not here." 

Tli at angel had come from on high, 

And he had rolled away the stone; 
His raiment would dazzle the eye, 
His countenance, oh, how it shone! 

The Lord has risen from the grave, 
A mighty conquerer o'er the tomb; 

The soldiers couldn't hold Him a slave, 
Neither could any seal His doom. 



He's the first fruits of them that slept, 
And we'll the general harvest be ; 
Cold winds o'er our graves may have swept, 
But God's dear ones will rise, set free. 

There's no weeping o'er His grave now, 
No, for He lives to die no more ; 

To death He will nevermore bow, 
No death on the evergreen shore. 

He unbarred the door of the tomb, 

That opens out into Heaven ; 
He drives away darkness and gloom 

From where long summer is given. 

Oh! what a dark and dismal night . 

As the Savior in the grave lay; 
What a beautiful morning bright, 

When doubt and mist had rolled away. 

For us it may be a lonesome time, 

While our friends make the grave their bed 



THE PENSIVE PENDULUM 17 



But won't it be a day sublime, 

When the graves have given up their dead' 



MOTHER. 

Mother, one of the sweetest names, 
Ever spoken by mortal tongue; 

It seems to sound so sweet, the same 
As blessed songs by angels sung. 

Her teachings I will never forget, 

Altho now I am growing old ; 
Her cords of love still bind me yet — 

The}^ seem to get a stronger hold. 

Did you realize what mother 
Was; until your mother died. 7 

You will never find another 

Like her, so kind, so true and tried. 

Nobody's love like mother's love, 
Lasts through years beyond the 'sky; 

It is akin to that love above 
That will no never die. 

Never until my latest breath 
Can 1 forget my dear mother ; 

I hope to meet her after death, 
And I think Ave'll know each other. 

When I was suffering with disease, 
Her gentle hand upon my brow, 

Seemed" best of all to give me ease, 

I think sometimes 'twould help me now 

I'll never feel that hand again, 
I'll never feel a soothing touch, 

UntiJ I reach the elysian plains; 
To say this now, is it too much? 

I remember well how she looked, 
When I was just a little boy ; 

How she cared for us then, and cooked; 
All her work she seemed to enjoy. 



18 TIIK PENSIVE PENDULUM 



She spun and wove and made our clothes, 
And did lots of other work, too: 

Mow she did so much God only knows, 
She was busy the whole day through. 

Old-time mothers didn't dread work; 

Her girl worked, too, she taught them how 
Her willing hands never tried to shirk; 

There's but few such mothers found now. 

Her toil and work are now all over, 
And she has found a better land: 

1 hope we'll meet on Canaan's' shore, 
And feel the touch of her kind hand. 



MOTHERS OLD LOOM. 

As I pass through the land wherever I go, 

I find but few of the things of long ago ; 

I have waded thru trouble and looked thru gloom, 

Many a time since 1 saw my mother's loom. 

1 see it sometimes, but 'tis just in my mind, 
'Tis gone, like those days that are left behind; 
i have passed thru sunshine and passed thru gloom, 
Bui still 1 remember my mother's old loom. 

Many a year ago when a boy in school, 
When our teacher would release us from his rule, 
And I would go home,, I'd hear cuh-boom, cuh-boom, 
'Twas the quaint little sound of mother's old loom. 

My feet get weary, my mind loaded with care, 
And there are things to remember, here and there; 
But in all the changing scenes of time there's room, 
Yes, room in my mind for dear mother's old loom. 

There was a bench that served as mother's seat, 
There were the treadles well w r orn by mother's feet; 
Many other things all around in the room, 
And dear mother, too, sitting there at the loom. 

I have watched the shuttle carry the thread through, 
As back and forth like a bird it flew; 



THE PENSIVE PENDULUM 19 



I have watched the gear work, I have watched the 

sley, 
I have watched dear mother weave, day after day. 

Sometimes, when around for her I'd turn the beam, 
When 1 think of it now it seems like a dream; 
I'll never see her again at the old loom, 
Her soul's up in Heaven, her body's in the tomb. 



THE CRY OF MOTHERS. 

I'm thinking of my boy, 

Who's now o'er the sea; 
This life I can't enjoy, 

Till he comes back to me. 
I never shall forget 

The time he went away; 
My cheeks with tears were wet, 

Oh, what a lonesome day! 
I often think of him, 

Over the ocean wide ; 
My eyes with tears get dim, 

For him I would have died. 
I dream I hear him groan, 

I dream I see his face; 
The winds, they seem to moan, 

This world's a lonesome place- 
I may see him no more, 

1 know not where he is; 
May be where cannons roar, 

And where the bullets whizz. 
Oh, Lord, take care of him! 

I know not how 'twill be, 
I fear his chance is slim, 

Oh, God, do strengthen me! 
Sometimes when I'm alone, 

I look for him in vain; 
I know that some have gone, 

To never come again. 
Oh, will they kill my boy? 

The Kaiser I just spurn. 
If him they could destroy, 

My boy might then return. 



20 THE PENSIVE PENDULUM 



Oh, must ho face the foe? 

Where fields arc colored red, 
If so, 1 11 never know 

The last word that lie said. 
I guess he'll do his part, 

What he's required to do, 
But Pll have a broken heart ; 

Perhaps go crazy, too. 
But God will not forsake; 

Some time the Lord will come, 
And if my heart should break, 

He'll come and take me home. 
Where wars will never be, 

For sin can't enter there; 
I hope there's room for me 

In those bright mansions fair. 



CHILDHOOD DAYS. 

I often think of my childhood days, 
Of home and friends who were by my side; 
From that home we're all scattered away, 
And some have crossed over Jordan's tide. 

Things have changed since that sweet, happy time, 
When in Eden's garden we seemed to stay. 
Was the Garden of Eden a happier clime, 
Than where we when children did play? 

Oh, how well I remember the place, 
Where the old-fashioned houses stood; 
Though the spot is grown overw ith grass, 
Where we would sit by the fires of wood. 

The old orchard, the trees are gone now 
That we would often climb to the top ; 
Or eat fruit in the shade of the bough 
As soon as some from the tree would drop. 

The hills seem dear or like enchanted ground, 
Wnere we rambled many years ago, 

With friends true and dear as could be found; 
We'll all never meet again here below. 



THE PENSIVE PENDULUM 21 



But when my life on this earth is done, 

And I have crossed over Time's border line, 

This race of mine will indeed be run, 

Then I'll meet again those friends of mine- 

We'll have a building not made with hands, 
Where the saved, according to God's Word, 
Is in number as the seashore sands, 
Then we'll be forever with the Lord. 

How my heart leaps forward at the thought 
Of living' where we'll never grow old! 
If we live righl as we have been taught, 
We'll some day walk on the streets of gold. 



PASSING BY THE OLD HOMESTEAD. 

I passed by the old place, 

Where in youth I lived so long; 
But saw no smiling face, 

And heard no cheering song. 
No mother at the door 

To cheer my drooping mind ; 
She'll be there never more, 

This World she's left behind. 

No father could I see, 

Though I looked far and nigh; 
He has indeed left me, 

Gone to his home on high. 
Oh, how I miss them now! 

They sheltered me in youth, 
They soothed my mind somehow, 

But always told the tuth. 

Ere father and mother died 

And went where life ne'er ends, 
They would stand by my side, 

Like true, unfailing friends. 
But storms have come and gone, 

My shelter's blown away; * 
What death could do, he's done, 

His call they must ob< 



22 THE PENSIVE PENDULUM 



I saw their silent graves, 

Where now their bodies lie; 
They fell like soldiers brave, 

( tone where they never die. 
Like sunshine after rain, 

Beaming from the sky, 
So 'twould be to meet again, 

As in days long gone by. 

The bouses looked so old, 
And, oh, so lonesome, too i 

Seemed I was growing cold, 
As in winter time we do. 

But summer lime was here, 

Tlie sun was shining bright ; 

I thought of friends so dear, 
All gathered home at night. 

We'll gather there no more, 

Nor meet on earth again; 
Some on the golden shore, 

They'll never suffer pain. 
I want to meet them there, 

I want to el asp their hands; 
In that sweet home so fair, 

That's built on heavenly, land. 



THINKING OF HOME. 

I often think of Heaven, that land bright and fair, 
Whenever I leave here, I want to go there; 
We must suffer down here, yes, suffer and die; 
None will ever say 'I'm sick' when at home on high. 

I often think of friends that I have loved so dear, . 
Who have said sad good-byes to their friends down 

here ; 
They left us broken-hearted, tears falling like rain, 
But there'll soon be a time when we'll meet again. 

I often think of Jesus who lives up there, too, 
In that sweet, happy place with the good and true; 
1 want to see his face, seems 'twould be a charm 
To catch a blessed smile and rest on His arm. 






THE PENSIVE PENDULUM 23 



I want to go to Heaven, that home far away, 
Where the dear Lord Himself and the angels stay 
And hear the songs of those gone on before ns, 
AYliile a band of angels helps sound the chorus. 

If e'er I get to Heaven, what a happy day! 
Where the smiles of Jesus drive sorrows all away; 
Loved ones of other years gathering by my side, 
To live with me fore'ef, then I'll be satisfied. 



DAYS GONE BY. 

When I was just a boy, 
So light-hearted and free, 

My heart bubbled with joy, 
Just as full as could be. 

When I was just a boy, 

How swift the moments flew! 

There was naught to annoy 
Me, like come things now do. 

In early maanhood days, 
What loving children, oh ! 

But alas! they couldn't stay, 
Here on this earth below. 

At, night we'd kneel in prayer, 
Oh, what a blessed time! 

The peace of then and there, 
It seems like joy sublime. 

But that cold sickle keen, 
That mows down the flowers, 

Came us and them between, 
And marred this home of ours. 

And now when I am old, 

Friends and I have parted; 
This world seems dark and cold, 
And I'm broken-hearted. 

My days are well-nigh spent, 
My toil will soon be o'er; 

I'll go where friends have went, 
We'll meet to part no more. 



24 THE PENSIVE PENDULUM 

THE LIGHT-HEARTED BOY. 

When cold winter was on, in days that are "one by, 
AVe would hunt o'er the hills, with hearts a-beating 

high ; 
The woods were full of game, my life was full of joy; 
'Twas away back yonder when a light-hearted boy. 

Squirrels were in the trees, wild turkeys gobbling 

round, 
'Possums in the thickets, and deer were easy found; 

So much to make me glad, so little to annoy, 
'Twas away back yonder when a light-hearted boy. 

'Coons in the hollow trees and pheasant on the wing, 
And the old long rifles would make the valleys ring; 
Hares were ev'ry where, shy, but common as a toy, 
'Tw r as away back yonder when a light-hearted boy. 

Foxes in the ivy that grew along the creek, 

That was the place, too, where the fierce wildcats 

would sneak ; 
There softly went the mink, that was hard to decoy; 
'Twas away back yonder when a light-hearted boy. 

Andwhen winter was o'er and summer would return, 
Oh, how hard we would work to get over our corn; 
Cornfields were full of weeds, that we could soon 

destroy, 
'Twas away back yonder when a light-hearted boy. 

Then away to the river, to pulling out the fish, 
That w r e could be there again is sometimes a wish ; 
The creek was full of fish, my life was full of joy, 
'Twas away back yonder when a light-hearted boy. 

Some days among the hills, some on the river's brink 
Were as happy hours as any I can think ; 
Just a few of them now I would like to enjoy, 
Like I did back yonder when a light-hearted boy. 



THE PENSIVE PENDULUM 25 



CHRISTMAS GIFTS. 

Merry Christmas time is here ; 

With presents to be given, 
And the one that I want near 

Is the one that eame from Heaven. 

There was a time — years ago 

Away over in Bethlehem; 
'Twas when Christ was born, you know, 

To die for poor, wicked men! 

Two thousand years have passed by, 
Since that Gift was sent that hour; 

All else have changed and silent lie, 
But he still holds his power. 

The angels the tiding told 

To the shepherds in the night ; 

Wise men went him to behold, 
Guided by the strange star's light. 

f - There was no room in the inn" 
For the Savior when he came; 

That's the way it's always been, 
Still we crowd him out, the same. 

There'll be gifts of every kind; 

Some worthless, some valued high; 
But what I have in my mind, 

Is Jesus, who is always nigh. 

Some want presents that look gay, 

And turn the Savior aside; 
He would with you always stay 

And be your heavenward guide. 

Let my Christmas present be 
A smile from the Savior's face; 

They are there for you and me, 
Enough to light up the place- 

The Christmas gift that is best, 
Is the first that e'er was given; 



26 THE PENSIVE PENDULUM 



He has already many blessed, 
And took some home to Heaven. 

The great Gift that God will give 

You will take you home on high ; 
Will you accept Him and live, 

Or 'reject Him still and die? 



DO YOU REMEMBER? 

Were you ever a boy? 

You weren't always a man; 
Oh, don't you remember? 

Yes, I think that you can. 
Some bright and happy days 

That never seemed dreary, 
When you'd run in the cold, 

And never get weary; 
You would run in the snows, 

With a blue looking nose, i 
When your feet nearly froze, 

With the frost-bitten toes. 
That was what did the dirt; 

When you'd get round the fire, 
Just get a little nigher, 

And then the way they'd hurt! 

Sometimes in time of school, 

We would complain and grumble; 
But when out in the snow 

We would roll and tumble; 
Then right onto the ice, 

And the way we would skate! 
Sometimes we would fall and 

Make a knot on our pate; 
We w r ould run in the sleet, 

On our heads it would beat, 
As the wind we would meet ; 

But the frost-bitten feet, 
That was what did the dirt, 

When in from the storm, 
And our feet would get warm, 

Oh, the way they would hurt ! 



THE PENSIVE PENDULUM 27 

Sometimes when winds were cold, 

All o'er the hills we'd hunl ; 
Although we'd nearly freeze, 

We'd seldom ever grunt; 
Sometimes the snow was deep, 

We'd get some in our shoes, 
But did not get it out, 

No time, we thought, to lose; 
No matter how it blows, 

"Tis the way a hoy goes, 
A-tearing out his ciothes, 

But frost-bitten toes, 
That is what does the dirt ; 

1 Ye never yet forgot, 
When my feet would get hot, 

The way they would hurt. 



SWEARING. 

Swearing may be a habit, 

A habit that is bad; 
When I hear some one at it, 

It ma Ices me feel so sad. 

I've heard some people swearing, 
Oil, they just raved and cursed; 

If volcanoes had no openings, 
I reckon they would burst 

They're like a burning mountain, 
There's something wrong within; 

Oaths come from impure fountains, 
From hearts just full of sin- 

You might lie sometimes, to gain, 
Might steal something to eat; 

But swearing is all in vain, 
Only yourself you cheat. 

'Tis wrong to tell a falsehood, 
'Tis wrong to steal, you know; 

I don't tell you that you should, 
But, oh, such oaths to sow! 



28 THE PENSIVE PENDFLl M 



Swearing seems to taint the air, 
'Tis hardly fit to breathe; 

Little children catch it there, 
Even before they teethe. 

It looks like sometime you'd stop, 
And not be swearing so; 

But still you just make them pop, 
Oh, how fast they must grow! 

If you have got the habit, 
Why don't you lay it by? 

It looks like men would quit it 
Sometime before they die. 

Oh, let God clean out your heart ! 

He'll make you sing and shout; 
And when you open your mouth, 

Oaths won't be- popping out. 



STRONG DRINK. 

Oh, strong drink is a dangerous thing! 

You will find this to be true ; 
If you drink on and to it cling, 

You will see what it will do. 

It has dragged down many a man, 
Who were good men at the start; 

It has ruined many a plan, 

And it's crushed many a heart. 

It's caused many mothers to weep 

All through the cold, dark night long 

It has robbed them of hours of sleep, 
And silenced many a song. 

It fills the prisons with its slaves; 

All else it does, who can tell? 
It fills with drunkards many graves 

And sends many souls to hell. 



THE PENSIVE PENDULUM 29 



Why men will drink the poisoned stuff 

And be led by Satan's hand; 
How they can drink and be so rough 

I never could understand. 

Yon say you drink for your good health, 

But it will lead you astray; 
You drink, yon know, and spend your wealth, 

That could be spent a better way. 

Yon drink, you say, it makes yon stout, 
And yon think it makes you smart ; 

Some drink to let the devil out 
That's already in their heart. 

Lo! if drinking on you still keep, 
Where do yon think you will dwell? 

You'll drink and keep your soul asleep, 
Till Satan leads you to hell. 



WAR. 

The low winds are sighing, 
While many are dying; 
There's groaning all around, 
Oh, what an awful sound! 
They're lying on the loam, 
Dying away from home. 

It seems awful to me, 
That 'way over the sea 
They're painting fields red, 
And piling up the dead, 
Who received mortal wounds 
Out on the battle grounds. 

Oh, the dark, bloody war! 
How I wish it was o'er; 
1 wish they'd make peaee, 
And the soldiers release 
And let them go away, 
To their families to si a v. 



THE PENSIVE PENDULUM 



While women are weeping, 
Their husbands are sleeping 
In the cold bloody grave ; 
They were soldies so brave, 
They fought on to the last, 
As their days are now past. 

The children are starving, 
While fathers are carving 
Out each other's life blood, 
Flowing down like a flood, 
And coloring the streams; 
Oh, how awful it seems! 

Oh, the destructive war! 
I wish* they'd fight no more ; 
Lay down their deadly guns 
And say the war is done, 
And all learn to do right, 
Yes, and nevermore fight.' 

What sad and weeping eyes! 
What shrieks and bitter 4 cries! 
They, almost rend the air 
That's floating everywhere; 
They're watching now for some 
Who will never more come. 

They are thinning the race ; 
They are coloring the place; 
They are filling the grave, 
With the fearless and brave, 
But where will he their souls, 
While eternity rolls? 



THE FLOOD. 

Good old Noah was a preacher, 
He wanted people to repent; 

If they had listened to that teacher, 
The deluge might not have been sent. 

But they thought they would have their way, 
But that didn't suit the God of Heaven; 



THE PENSIVE PENDULUM 31 



Just like some people today, 

And so their sins are not forgiven- 

The Ark was done, the door was closed; 
Jt rained till waters hid the ground; 
Things did not turn out as they supposed, 

They saw that soon they would be drowned. 

The people now began to pray; 

'Tis now too late; in vain they cry; 
The Ark's already sailed away, 

And now they sec thai death is nigh. 

It surely was an awful time. 

When waters did the valleys fill; 

'Way up the hills the people climb, 
But waters rise and hide the hills. 

It almost swept the race away, 

Only eight souls were saved, you know; 
The rest all sank and sank to stay, 

Seems hard, but they were bound to go. 

No war there, no shedding of blood, 
But none are left to sing a dirge; 

For all are strangled in that flood, 

As waves run high, and heave and surge. 

The Flood! there'll be no such again, 
But, oh, the next most awful day! 

It will be fire instead of rain, 

And then 'twill be too late to pray. 

The preacher cries, "Get ready now, 

And then you'll mount above the flame; 

If you ne'er at God's altar bow, 

Who do you think will be to blame?" 

If we're bent on having our way, 

And we will not accept God's plans, 

We'll be worse off by far some day 
Than were the Antediluvians. 



32 THE PENSIVE PENDULUM 



THE RAINBOW. 

God made a covenant with man. 

Pour thousand years ago ; 
We know He's never changed His plan, 

When we sec the rainbow. 
"The earth will never he drowned again, 

God said a long time ago; 
We think of that in showers of rain, 

When we see the rainbow. 
God placed it there upon the cloud 

A long time ago ; 
Sweet solemn thoughts upon us crowd, 

When we see the rainbow. 
Bii'ds may sing above in their flight 

From tree to tree, you know, 
But, oh, we see a grander sight, 

When we see the rainbow. 
We don't know how God holds it there, 

On falling rain, you know; 
But we can see an arch smooth and fair, 

When we see the rainbow. 
So beautiful in red and gold, 

Sometimes it bends so low; 
We often think of things of old, 

When Ave see the rainbow. 
We're in the road our fathers trod 

Many a year ago ; 
And should always think of God, 

When we see the rainbow. 
I think some day we'll live with God, 

The one who loves us so ; 
So now we'll try to praise our God, 

When we see the rainbow. 



IN THE EARLY MORNING. 

In the early morning, 

When night has fled away, 

I alway think of God, 
The One we should obey; 

I thank Him for His goodness, 
The care He's taken of me. 



THE PENSIVE PENDULUM 33 



I know He has promised 
His glory I shall see. 

In the early morning, 

Just at the break of day, 
I hear the birds a-singing, 

In bed I cannot slay. 
The air is cool and pleasant, 

But mornings soon are gone; 
Darkness gathers o'er us, 

We wait another dawn. 

In the early morning, 

When stars all fade from sight, 
I think of home, sweet home, 

My Heavenly home so bright; 
Where flowers don't droop and die, 

Xo storms so dark and cold; 
I know there's room on high, 

Where streets are paved with gold. 

In the early morning, 

The mornings that dawn here, 
That carry away things 

That cause so many a tear; 
We think of a bright morn, 

Where evenings will not come; 
We'll not be pilgrims there, 

But be forever at home. 



IN THE SHADOWY EVENING. 

In the shadowy evening, 

"When work of day is done;" 
While the twilight lingers, 

And the day is almost gone ; 
We often think of loved ones, 

Who've crossed the chilly tide, 
The dear ones of our home, 

Who sickened once and died. 

May be father or mother, 
And perhaps children, too, 



34 THE PENSIVE PENDULUM 



Or a loving companion, 
Who was to ns so true; 

Oh, how we miss them now! 
All gathering in at night, 

Around the old fireside, 

With eyes a-beaming bright. 

In the shadowy evening, 
In vain we look for some, 

While some may gather in, 
But some will never come; 

We hear not their footsteps, 
'Nor hear their voices ring, 

But sometime bye and bye, 
We expect to hear them sing. 

In the shadowy evening, 

We miss their lovely form, 
Gathering in with us 

Around the fire to warm ; 
Oh, there's a vacant chair! 

There was a welcome voice 
We'd love to hear again, 

But cannot have our choice. 



In the shadowy evening, 

When life on earth's behind, 
We'll cross the sable river, 

And meet those friends so kind 
We'll know them, we'll see them 

All in immortal bloom; 
Their bodies are in graves now, 

But they will leave the tomb. 

In the shadowy evening, 

When life on earth is o'er, 
When the sun is sinking 

To rise, for us, no more; 
Until a brighter dawning, 

Of an eternal day; 
Then the blessed sunshine 

Will never fade away. 



THE PENSIVE PENDULUM 35 



JUST LET ME ALONE. 

You will wish you were a Christian sometime before 

you die, 
But want to see your pleasure while your heart is 

beating high; 
The preacher cries to one and all, come to the Living 

One, 
''But just let me alone now and let me see my fun." 
You want to be a good man when your days are al- 
most gone, 
But you wander on in sin and say "Just let me alone, 
No use for me to turn yet, my race 1 have just begun, 
Oh, just let me alone now and let me see my fun." 
There is plenty all around us to lead us astray, 
There is plenty of good advice, but it seems we won't 

obey ; 
There are some that will listen to you and say, "I'm. 

not the one, 
Oh, just let me alone now and let me see my two..' 9 
You drink and wander around and almost break 

your mother's heart; 
You say, yes, that you will sometime for Heaven 

make a start, 
But not now; let me have my bottle, let me have my 

gun, 
Oh, just let me alone now and let me have my fun." 
You take the name of God in vain, yon almost taint 

the aii'; 
Do you ever think of mother and Heaven's home so 

'fair. 1 
You say, "I know that mother loves me, loves her 

wayward son, 
But just let me alone now and let me see my fun." 
You wander on in sin so far from the Heavenly track 
That it might be possible that you never could get 

back ; 
And then be called to die without God or hope in 

His Son, 
Then sink into regions where there'll be no more fun. 
Oh, dear youg people, listen to the Savior's loving 

call, 
And seek ye the Kingdom of God very first thing 

of all/ 



36 THK PENSIVE PENDULUM 



vou're 



Then if you die, either in youth or when 3 
getting old, 

You'll live in a eity where the streets are paved with 
gold. 



LONG TONGUES. 

I reckon there must be a few long tongues some- 
where in the world. Bud Robinson, "the Texas cow- 
boy preacher," tells us that he has seen cows with 
long enough tongues to lick their calves through the 
crack of the fence; and that lie has seen longer 
tongues than that. He said he had seen people sit 
at home and lick their neighbors all over the settle- 
ment. 

The Bible tells us "the tongue is a fire * * * 
and it is set on fire of hell." 

The tongue may kindle a fire that will burn on 
and on, and if not stopped in time, become unquench- 
able, and be combined with the fires in the regions 
of despair. 

[t was in my dreams I thought I saw 
A man with an ugly looking jaw; 
And he had a wonderful long tongue, 
When it was let out and all unstrung. 

I thought he went to the Golden Gate, 
And acted as though he was something great ; 
"Saint Peter," he said, "Heaven I'm seeking; 
You listen, and I'll do the speaking." 

"But ere I enter the land of bliss, 
Saint Peter, will you remember this ; 

My neighbor J is not to enter in, 

For he would pollute Heaven with sin. 

"And there are others, too, all around; 
A sorrier set could not be found ; 
I don't care if they are treated cruel; 
They're fit for naught but Satan's fuel. 



THE PENSIVE PENDULUM 37 . 



"Look! my neighbor J is passing by; 

He's gone through and to that home on high; 
Saint Peter, what a mistake you've made; 
Kou have ruined Heaven, I am afraid. 

"Alas! why did you not shut that gate, 
And not wait until it was too late? 
Ah! if you had understood your place, 
Satan would have scorched his ugly face." 

I thought he had talked so very strange, 
But lo! now his subject seemed to change; 
For I thought he said, "Great God, I pray, 
( 'an you turn me forever away .' 

"Oh, Saint Peter, I see where I stand; 
It seems that I am on sinking sand; 
'Tis giving away under my feet, 
I now see the doom that soon I'll meet. 

''I see I've made a wretched mistake, 
I have made my bed in a fiery lake; 
If I could tell and warn my brothers 
I've lost my soul a-licking others." 

Friends, I've told you what I thought he said, 
If it was a dream, there's danger ahead; 
If the tongue's not bridled till too late, 
We'll never pass through the Golden Gate. 



TOUCH NOT. 

You say that one dram won't hurt, 
"'Twill only make us brave:" 

It might be the first spade of dirt 
Took from a drunkard's grave. 



Oh ! if you drink whiskey and wine, 
You .drink and more you crave; 

You're on a slippery incline, 
Down to a drunkard's grave. 



38 THE PENSIVE PENDULUM 



The more you drink the Paster you sink, 

The harder you are to save; 
My heart is sad whenever I think 

About a drunkard's grave- 

Won't you take this advice of mine, 

If you your soul would save, 
Oh, do get off of that incline , 

Down to a drunkard's grave! 

If drunkards' graves their souls would hold, 

So bad it might not be ; 
But their souls sink down lower, I'm told, 

To spend Eternity. 



NO STANDING STILL. 

There is no standing still place, we know, 

We're going up, it may be slow, 

Or we're going down, it may he fast; 

We know this, yes, by what is past. 

Oh, climb up higher, and never slop! 

"The ranks are full; there's room on top;' : 

Look up and pull for higher plains; 

Higher ground always be your aim. 

There is a Way that leads above; 
The upward way's the one I love; 
The downward road leads to the bad, 
To think of that it makes me sad. 
There's teeming millions in that road 
To and in that dismal abode; 
Has any found a place to land? 
There is no bottom on which to stand. 

But they are sinking lower and lower, 
Regret and pain just pour and pour; 
Oh, what a fearful, awful doom, 
Of melting and smothering gloom! 
Yes, there is a bottomless pit 
For those who will not sinning quit; 
There mu. t he a topless Heaven 
For those whose sins are all forgiven. 



THE PENSIVE PENDULUM 39 

Up there they are climbing God's hills, 
It seems there is no stand still, 
While waves of glory roll and roll 
O'er and through the raptured soul. 
Two brothers live in the same town, 
One going up and the other down; 
Dearest friends will sometimes sever 
And get farther apart forever. 



A LOOK AT THE STARS. 

I was out one lonesome, still, (dear, moonless night, 
There wasn't any light except a dim starlight ; 
There were thousands of stars twinkling 'way on 

high, 
Held there some way, up above the pale blue sky. 

While 1 was there that night I stood on the ground, 
And I looked up above, and looked all around; 
I looked up above, and I looked, and 1 gazed, 
I looked, and I wondered, till I was amazed. 

! stood there, F looked at the star-studded sky, 
And thought of the One whom they were placed 

there by; 
And I thought of a home just over the stars, 
That happy home, up there, that naught ever mars. 

I was there alone, I had gone out to pray, 

But while I was there my mind was far away; 

Was thinking of treasures, as 1 often do, 

For where our treasures are, our minds are there too. 

1 thought of that sweet Heaven, and pictured it, too, 
As old as the hills, but it ever looks new ; 
As clear and bright as the sun, as pure as gold, 
AY here the children of God have their names enrolled. 

I want to see Heaven, and roam Heaven through, 
With people of old, who were so good and true; 
The dear ones are there, who were so near my heart, 
They were wanted up there, and we had to part- 



40 THE PENSIVE PENDULUM 

I expect to meet them again some sweet day, 
In a land where We can with them always stay; 
Death will ne'er separate us again up there, 
In that home where Jesus has gone to prepare. 

THE PREACHER'S SIDEBOARDS. 

I once heard of a preacher who bought some 
corn from his neighbor. As they both knew just 
about what the preacher's wagon-bed held they 
agreed on so much a load; but the preacher worked 
nearly all night making sideboards for his wagon- 
bed. Next day when he went after his corn his 
neighbor eyed his wagon-bed closely, but said noth- 
ing. When they all met again to worship God the 
preacher got happy and began to shout, and said 
"I'm so happy I'm just running over." His little boy 
looked up and said, "Pa, put up your sideboards." 

The molasses cooled down and the evaporator 
wasn't half full, and he didn't need any sideboards. 

Let's try to make our lives tally with what we say, 
AVhen God pours in the oil He aims for- some to stay; 
If you treat your neighbor wrong you'll lose out by 

Until you make it right 'twould be best to keep quiet. 

In olden times the people shouted o'er their Lord, 
And we can plainly sec by reading in 1 lis Word, 
If the people held their pence, that is, didn't shout, 
Christ said the stones would immediately cry out. 

God wants His people to shout and give Him praise, 
But Avants them to turn from their sinful, crooked 

ways; 
He wants to change their hearts and pour in His 

blessed love: 
He would love to see them live harmless as a dove. 

I love to hear you shout, when 1 see the vessel's full, 
And when the load is heavy I like to see you pull ; 
Keep the vessel level, the oil from running out. 
And when it bubbles over how can you help but 
shout ? 



THE PENSIVE PENDULUM 41 



There are burdens to bear; oh, why not bear your 

part, 
Ami give God your all, and let Him enlarge your 

heart, 
That it may hold enough that it may never run dry, 
So your lamp will be burning when your time comes 

to die ? 

1 meet with many storms as my days pass away, 
But I'm looking forward to a calmer, brighter day; 
I will meet you again if you the Savior love ; 
Keep oil in your lamps and some day we'll shout 
above. 



I'LL TRY. 

I'll try to be somebody, 

Try to be a man; 
I'll try to love my neighbor, 

Try the golden plan. 

I'll try "not hurt my neighbor, 
Try to treat him right ; 

I'll try to let in sunshine, 
Try to give him light- 

I'll try to hold my head up, 
Try to face the storm ; 

111 try .to keep my reason, 
Try to do no harm. 

IT] try to look up above, 

Try to be content ; 
I'll try to think of Heaven, 

Try to bear what V sent. 

I'll try not to shrink backward, 

Try not to descend ; 
I'll try to mount up higher, 

Try to meet my friends. 

I'll try to bear my burdens, 
Try with my whole heart ; 



42 THE PENSIVE PENDULUM 



I'll try not be oppressive, 
Try to do my pari. 

I'll try to be no burden, 
Try to use my hands'; 

I'll try to live for Heaven, 
Try to reach higher lands. 

I'll try to climb the ladder, 

Try to never stop ; 
I'll try to climb it higher, 

Try to reach the top. 

I'll try to live a Christian, 
Try to upward rise ; 

IT] try to gain yon Heaven, 
Try to win the prize. 



WHAT I HAD RATHER DO. 

Say, dear friends, if yon could be whate'er you 

would, 
Would you stand high or great, or would you be 

good ? 
1 would not mistreat others to pile up gold, 
I'd rather walk with God, like Enoch of old. 

If I eouhl be just what I wauled to be, 
I would not be mean, like some bad men you see; 
Bad men are in danger, I long have been told, 
I'd rather walk with. God, like Enoch of old. 

If I could do just what I wanted to do, 
I would not do what is wrong and sinful, too; 
I would not let my soul for millions be sold, 
I'd rather walk with God, like Enoch of old, 

If we can e'er reach that bright and happy land, 
Feel again the touch of sonic immortal hand; 
The days will then be o'er, when the billows rolled, 
We'll then get acquainted with Enoch of old. 

I don't find things here like 1 wanted them to be, 
The most of my friends Lave been taken from me; 



THE PENSIVE PENDULUM 43 



What matters now if some nights are dark and cold, 
If we could walk with God, like Enoch of old. 

Enoch vvalk'd with God three hundred years or more, 
If we live like him we will reach the golden shore; 
Oh! what a wonderful sight we will then behold, 
And live forever with God and Enoch of old. 

God loved Enoch and took him home, up above, 
Where roils the ocean of God's infinite Love; 
The Book of Life is there with our names enrolled, 
Many of our friends are there with Enoch of old. 

I never- have found this to be Heaven here, 
Too many a heart-ache, too many a tear; 
There's too many a taint and too many a mold, 
If I were only with God, like Enoch of old- 



THE UNKNOWN PATH. 

The unknown path that we'll travel, 

May be lined with sharp-edged gravel; 

Or it may be cold ice and sleet, 

Which oft may pierce our weary feet. 

We're traveling with amazing speed, 

From birth to death the path doth lead. 

We may climb the ladder of fame, 

We may fall, oh! who's to blame? 

We may 'way up the mountain scale; 

Maybe we will completely fail; 

We may not know what will be to pay, 

Unless we pass along the way. 

It may be joy; may be sorrow, 

Don't know today what comes tomorrow 

We may have friends so good and kind, 

Which oft may cheer our drooping mind. 

We may rejoice, or we may cry, 

Oni' dearest friends may say good-bye; 

We may be left almost alone, 

The path ahead is all unknown. 

Sometimes we may have heavy hearts, 

Sometimes, you know, we have to pact; 



44 THE PENSIVE PENDULUM 



Some follow on the bugle sound, 
And spill their blood on battle ground. 
We know not what we have to face, 
While running in this earthly race. 
We only know that out ahead, 
The silent grave will be our bed. 
But if to God we will be true, 
In sonic way Sle will help us through; 
And when our life on earth is o'er, 
Then we will find an open door 
To a bright home of peace and bliss, 
In a clime far more serene than this. 



IS LIFE WORTH LIVING? 

The question has often been asked, 

Whether life's worth living or not; 
For some to live is- quite a task, 

And so hard seems their earthly lot. 
We may be poor, put to the test, 

And think life not worth livng at all. 
But bye and bye we'll get to rest, 

And come out conquerer o'er it all- 
Oh, yes, says one, life is so fine 

And full of pleasures on every hand; 
No house can beat this house of mine, 

And there's none built on better land. 
He lives in splendor all his days, 

His family's health is all so good; 
But life on earth won't last always, 

He'd live on if he only could; 
lint at last he is called to die, 

And says his sins are not forgiven; 
Alas! we hear him sadly cry, 

I'm gone, I've lost my home in Heaven. 
If we live and die steeped in sin, 

The harm we've done, oh, who can tell I 
We wish that born we had never been, 

As our pooi- soul sinks into Hell. 
But if we live a Christian here, 

This life on earth's worth living, sure; 
And Ave will see this all so clear, 

When at home in that land so pure. 



THE PENSIVE PENDULUM 45 



SCATTERING THOUGHTS. 

All things here must pass away, 
Ob, I see they can not stay! 
And we often weep and cry, 
For we see so many die. 
Many thorns among the flowers, 
And they pierce these hearts of ours, 
(Mi, if may lie what we need! 
But our hearts are made to bleed. 
But in Heaven they die no more, 
'Tis 'way on some other shore ; 
There no thorns are on the flowers, 
And no dark and lonesome hours. 
We can't take our sins up there, 
Xo sin in those mansions fair; 
We must be forgiven down here, 
Then we'll see our way so clear. 
Oh, Ave know so very well, 
And I'm so glad we can tell 
When our sins are all forgiven, 
And we're on our way to Heaven. 
For we feel so free and light, 
And it seems we see a light 
Shining on us from above, 
And our soul's aflame with love. 
There'll be some dark, lonesome nights, 
We may see some awful sights; 
But that love will burn the same, 
And sometimes be made to flame. 
When we reach that home above, 
There's nothing but perfect love; 
Things preserved in love, they say, 
Will never fade nor decay. 
We'll then lie tilled with delight, 
In that land where is no night ; 
There's no trouble up in Heaven, 
Where unending day is given. 



RETROSPECTION. 

The only night 1 ever spent within the bounds 
of Corbin I stayed with Andy Killion, the deer hun- 



46 THE PENSIVE PENDULUM 

ter. The place where his dwelling stood is not far 
from the center of Corbin. It was Saturday night 
before Easter, half a century ago. The Corbin lands, 
and all around for miles, were all timbered land, ex- 
cept a few fields here and there. The woods were 
full of game, and winters cold and snowy. 

I'm thinking of my childhood, 

And scenes of long ago; 
Fields and acres of wildwood, 

Which oft were white with snow. 
When first I can remember, 

liow tilings have changed since then — 
The hills were full of timber, 

Long since cut down by men. 

And now, while I am trying, 

To write about those Avoods, 
Broad fields are there, now lying 

Where trees once thickly stood. 
The truth to you Ilm telling, 

The place where Corbin stands, 
Where many folks are dwelling, 

Was once the hunter's land. 

There once roamed the deer hunter, 

Willi his long rifle gun; 
He hunted there in winter, 

But now his race is run. 
Seems hunting was a habit; 

There was just lots of game, 
The squirrel and the rabbit, 

But hare is its right name- 
Down in the ivy bottoms, 

We found the raccoon trail; 
And there was the opossum, 

With its long naked tail. 
To find a deer no trouble, 

Plenty of pigeons, too; 
To hear wild turkeys gobble, 

Oh, it would tickle you! 



THE PENSIVE PENDULUM 



The fox, the mink, the wildcat, 

Whose looks then made me shiver; 
The groundhog and the muskrat 

That lived along the river. 
Time, the mighty tomb-maker, 

lias wrought, oh, many a change; 
And men cleared so many an acre, 

Deer now would have no range. 

Our meat then cost no money, 

Not fatted calf nor lamb ; 
Something better than honey, 

It was ^ enison ham. 
Another that was so sweet, 

Better than ginger cake, 
Was old juicy 'possum meat, 

That mother used to bake. 

To hear the pigeons chuckle, 

Again in that old wood, * 
Where grew the honeysuckle, 

I think 'twould do me good. 
And to chase the deer again, 

Sometimes my heart doth yearn ; 
But my childhood and things of then 

Are gone, never to return. 



THE SANDY FOUNDATION. 

Come all yon dear people and think where you now 
stand ; 

If you're on a foundation that's built oii the sand ; 

Oh, what will you do, dear friends, and what will 
you say, 

When you feel yonr foundations all giving away? 

There's nothing here below that will do to hold to, 

When your sandy foundation is all falling through; 

When the stars are falling and the earth is all on fire, 

And sinners sinking down, while saints are rising- 
higher. 

See everything there is changing and passing away, 

None of us could, if we would, here very long stay; 



48 THE PENSIVE PENDULUM 



We see the old and the young dying all around, 
And our bodies, too, shortly must be laid under 

ground. 
Lot's flee to the Savior who once died on the tree; 
It! Ave don't, oh, some day we will so sorry be ! 
We'll be lost in the regions of eternal night, 
Seeing the saints just once in the mansions of light. 
Why not build on the Rock of Eternal Ages? 
Then you'll be safe while the storm around you 

rages; 
You will have a Friend that will forsake you never, 
And he will go with you o'er the Jordan River. 
Farewell, if I can't pursuade you to turn from sin, 
I soon leave you and go where dear ones long have 

been; 
They're waiting and watching for me beyond the 

blue, 
And I know some dear one there' wants you to come, 

too- 
Oh, Lord! wake us up and let us see where we stand, 
If we've not been born again we are building on the 

sand ; 
Oh, do give God your heart and hold to His mighty 

hand, 
And some day we'll meet again in the Glory Land. 



THE BIBLE. 

Oh, that some angel would guide my hand, 
And thai God would help me understand 
How to write about his sacred Word, 
Of which much has already been heard. 

The most precious book that e'er was known, 
Is the Book of God, standing all alone, 
Towering away above the rest so high, 
Like something reaching up to the sky. 

The Bible is a comforting book, 
How I love on its pages to look, 
For blessed promises, rich and free, 
Written down there for you and for me 



THE PENSIVE PENDULUM 49 



If we read it at nigfrt or morning, 

We'll find it full of solemn warning 

Against wandering away from God, 

Not traveling the path the prophets trod, 

Some things plain written on its pages, 
Some so deep they puzzle even sages: 
'Tis full of comfort for the good man, 
And full of warning to the bad man. 

It tells of God's dear only Son; 

So deep was the love of that Holy One, 

To sacrifice life for you and me, 

That we might ever in His presence be. 

It lei Is of Heaven, the land of love, 
The land of peace up yonder above, 
The land of joy where the saints will dwell, 
Where sinners will go I loath to tell- 

It says thai City has streets of gold; 
There well live with the prophets of old; 
There We'll live with the ones we love, best; 
Oh, then veil enjoy undisturbed rest! 

It tells of a place, the regions of woe, 
Unquenchable fire forever will glow; 
Then if for Heaven we are not fit, 
We'll sink down into that bottomless pit. 



RELIGION 

Religion isn't just an opinion, 

But it is heavenly love ; 
That comes from that bright dominion, 

Beyond the skies above. 

Religion puts the soul on wings, 

To fly away to heaven; 
And oh! the joy and peace it brings, 

When sins are all forgiven. 

Religion is heavenly fire, 
Down in the heart of man ; 



50 THE PENSIVE PENDULUM 

And it will lift the soul up higher, 
When we accepl (Joel's plan. 

Religion makes us love each other, 
And treat each other right; 

Then our Savior is our brother, 
Who makes the burdens light 

Religion is not just a name, 
'Tis real, true and tried; 

Sometimes it sets the soul aflame 
And then we're satisfied. 

Religion is not just a storm, 
Sometimes it's calm and still; 

It never has done one a wrong, 
No, and it never will. 

Religion gives a peace and joy, 
The world don't understand; 

Religion, Satan can'1 destroy, 
With all his demon band. 

Religion gives joy while we live, 
And gives peace when we die; 

Then God will give us a home, 
Somewhere beyond the shy. 



MEMORY 

0, .Memory, sweet memory, 

You take me back' to other days; 

Alas! why should it ever be? 

But youth and friends have slipped away 

Memory, oh, sweet memory, 
Oh ! you have never left me yet ; 
Such bright days shall I ever sec.' 
Those days I shall never forget. 

Oh ! memory, sometimes you steal 
Me back to days that were not bright; 
Griefs I've felt, I don't want to feel 
No more, nor see dark, lonesome nights. 



THE PENSIVE PENDULUM 51 



Oh! memory, sweel memory , 
You hold sweet thoughts of other years; 
But some sadness steals over me, 
When I think of some friends so dear. 

Ah! memory holds many things, 
Of times and scenes of Long ago; 
Sometimes sweet thoughts, and then it 
brings 

Some sad and weeping times, you know. 

Sweet memory, sometimes you leave 
Me there, where 1 was first forgiven; 
Oh, how that did my sou! relieve, 
11 makes me think of home in heaven 
Where Saints will all stand united. 

Oh, memory, will you always last 
Throughout eternity so long; 
Or will all things of the past 
Be lost forever in shout and song? 



IF WE GOULD SEE 

If we could see one year ahead, 

Would we live as we do : 
Before that time we might be dead, 

And our poor souls lost, too. 

If we could see that place below, 

I think we'd quickly turn 
From that broad road that leads to woe 

\Vhere fires forever burn. 

Perhaps you've wandered far away, 

On the dark hills of sin; 
Why not the Saviour's voice obey, 

Come back, He'll take you in. 

Some wander on, seem almost blind, 
Can'i see an inch ahead; 

Can't see above, neither behind, 
Until they're almost dead. 



52 THE PENSIVE PENDULUM 



And when they see that they must die, 

They then begin to see 
How had they need a home on high, 

Where death will never be. 

If we could see with undimmed eye 

Just what heaven will be, 
I think that we would quickly try 

To get from sin set free. 

If we could see that home above, 

We all would want to go 
To live with God and those we love, 

"Where joys forever flow. 

If we could see beyond the grave; 

We'd plead to be forgiven; 
We'd fight like soldiers brave 

To gain a home in heaven. 

I think some day our eyes shall see 
Heaven and what heaven means; 

And then with God forever be, 
And view those heavenly scenes. 



SINCE MY CHILDREN ABE GONE 

Sometimes I'm so lonesome since my children are 

gone, 
Don't know how I've borne, through the years that 

have flown by, 
Since they left us and left their bodies of clay, 
And went up to heaven, with the angels to stay. 

30th day of August, 6th day of November 
And 16th of October I'll always remember, 
I can't forget them, no, I'll tell you the reason why 
These are the dates on which our girls were called 
to die. 

First one that left, 'twas when the leaves began to 

fall ; 
She was our darling child, the youngest one of all. 



THE PENSIVE PENDULUM 5U 



It was a dreadful fever that swept her away; 
What a heart-rending time, oh! what an awful day! 

She called me to her bedside and said: "Pa, good- 
bye;" 
Alas, I knew from then that she would shortly die. 
As she reached out her hand with a smile on her face 
It seemed like the angels were all around the place. 

The next one that left us was our dear oldest girl, 
Her eyes were bright and sparkling, her teeth like a 

pearl ; 
'Twas tuberculosis that stole her life away, 
And she is gone to a place where death has no sway- 
As she lay on her bed just smothering to death; 
I lifted her up and she panted for breath, 
As she said: "Dear Jesus, come take me home, 
Where such suffering and death can nevermore come 

Only one more girl, and she had consumption, too, 
And she grew worse in spite of all that we could do; 
And lo ! before another year had passed away, 
She had left us and gone with her sisters to stay. 

She was a dear, good girl and not afraid to die ; 
I'm satisfied now they are all at home on high; 
But sometimes I'm weeping and I am so sad, 
I just cannot help it, for I miss them so bad. 

My head is getting gray and I am growing old; 
I've tried to bear it patiently, tried to be bold; 
But oh ! I miss them, miss them in sunshine and rain; 
I miss them and will until I meet them again. 



THE PICTURES THAT HANG ON THE WALL 

The beautiful pictures that hang on the wall, 
They are pictures of dear ones that Ave have seen fall, 
Just how they look from my mind time can't erase. 
The pictures are like them, but can't fill their place. 



54 THE PENSIVE PENDUL1 M 



Oli, Hie silent pictures that hang on the wall! 
When I pass through the room 1 look at them all. 
God certainly knows J have shed many a tear, 
And oft think of the lime when they were all here. 

The pictures that hang on the wall of the room, 
Pictures of some who were taken in their bloom; 
Their pictures are all that we can now see; 
This world is lonesome, or seems so to me. 

Silent pictures hanging on the wall today, 
They are pictures of friends that are gone away; 
Yes, they are gone, with them w r e had to sever, 
They are gone, and they went to stay forever. 

We go in the room, we see them hanging there ; 
Oh, they look so beautiful, with golden hair! 
They're silent, never a word have they to say — 
Only pictures on the Avail, and there they stay. 

We look at the pictures, we know them so well, 
Seems many a thing their dear faces could tell, 
( )f sweet, happy hours when we were together, 
Sit 'round the same fire in cold winter weather. 

Oh, how to us of loved ones remind, 
I low they were taken and we Avere left behind; 
But Ave will be taken some day, one and all, 
Though our pictures may never hang on the Avail. 



A NIGHT OF WATCHING. 

Did you ever watch around the sick, 
Through the dark, lonesome night; 

And AA T ith your heart pierced to the quick, 
You'd long for morning light- 

Sometimes our hearts will almost fail, 

To see them lying there; 
With limbs so weal; and faces pale; 

Indeed, 'tis hard to bear. 

Sometimes Adieu lamps are burning Ioav, 
The sick ones are so bad, 



THE PENSIVE PENDULUM 55 



Oh, hours wear- away so slow! 

Our hearts are heavy and sad. 

Late in the night the crowwds disperse, 

Our tears begin to swell ; 
We're afraid they're getting worse, 

Afraid they won't get well. 

Did they e'er say to you "Good-bye," 
And reach a trembling hand? 

You saw that they would shortly die, 
And leave this earthly land. 

The clouds still lower and get so thick, 
And seems won't pass away; 

Our loved ones now are so sick, 
And death will hold the sway. 

It seems we've done all we can do, 
But still they're sinking lower; 

Their eyes put on a glassy hue, 
Their days oir earth are o 'er. 

Up where unending day is given, 
No clouds so dark and thick ; 

No night of watching up in Heaven, 
For there they ne'er get sick. 



WHEN THE BUN IS SINKING. 

I want to live right while I stay here, 
So when the day is o'er I'll feel clear, 
And be ready then to go to rest, 
When the sun is sinking in the west. 

I may have but little here below ; 
I'll not need that little long, I know, 
But to have the Savior near is best, 
When the sun is sinking in the west. 

Some lay up treasures on earth, you see, 
But in Heaven let my treasures be ; 
And to live up there is my request, 
While the sun is sinking in the west. 



56 THE PENSIVE PENDUUWI 



In health, some may boast of what they are, 
But there is something much better far; 
Undefiled religion stands the test, 
When the sun is sinking in the west. 

Yes, there are hardships down here, you say, 
But sometime they will all pass away; 
We will fly like eagles from their nest, 
When the sun has sunk down in the west. 

The flowers there bloom to die no more, 
Things that mar our peace will then be o'er, 
Not anything there to ever molest, 
Where the sun will not sink down in the west- 
Just imagine what a time 'twill be, 
When the Savior's blessed face we see; 
No burden there on our peaceful breast, 
Where the sun w r ill not sink down in the west- 
There '11 be no night there, 'tis all bright day; 
There'll be no death, we ean always stay 
There in the bright regions of the blest ; 
Where the sun will not sink in the west. 



OUR GARMENTS OF OLD 

Back in the happy days, 

Long, long ago, gone by; 
The clothes that we wore then, 

You see, we did not buy; 
For our dear parents made 

Most everything we wore; 
Those days, and home-made clothes 

Of course, we see no more. 

Our good warm winter clothes, 
Always grew on sheep-backs; 

And our summer garments 
Grew on cotton and flax ; 

And then manufactured 
By a dear mother's hand; 



THE PENSIVE PENDULUM 57 



There always have been some 
Dear mothers in the land. 

They then raised their own flax, 

And raised their own cotton ; 
And they did not make cloth 

That was sorry and rotten; 
It was not very fine, 

But it was good and strong; 
Good as we expected, 

Then it would last so long. 

There was the old flax-break, 

That some one must tackle, 
For there was flax to break, 

To swingle and to hackle; 
Cotton seed to pick out, 

There was cotton to card, 
But the dear old people 

Were willing to work hard. 

The materials were made, 

And it is gathered in, 
We'd hear the buzz of wheels, 

As dear mothers would spin; 
Some threads ready to reel, 

I seem to hear it strike 
As it makes all the hanks 

Just exactly alike. 

There stands the warping bars. 

And mothers knew their trades; 
They warp the thread so even, 

And there's the winding blades, 
Where our dear mothers sat, 

And often filled their quills; 
'TAvas a long time ago 

But I remember it still'. 

They're ready for the loom, 

The warp's rollejj on the beam. 

'Twas a long time ago 
And it seems like a dream; 



58 THE PENSIVE PENDULUM 



There were two beams, often 
Turned for some dear mother ; 

They take it off of one, 
And roll it on the other. 

Mother's at the loom now, 

And busy feet and hands ; 
For what her children need, 

A mother understands. 
Treadles move so swiftly 

And shuttles fly so fast, 
Thread was on the first beam 

And cloth was on the last. 

The tailor's right at home, 

And mothers knew their trade ; 
They sewed on their fingers; 

'Twas how our clothes were made. 
The way that we dressed then 

Would now look odd and funny; 
Of course it took some work, 

But scarcely any money. 



OLD AGE 

Old age will steal upon us, if we live any length of 

time, 
If we aim to ne'er gow T old, we must find a different 

clime ; 
For time with us is fast rolling on ! How swift the 

the moments fly, 
And we'll certainly feel a change as the years are 

passing by. 

Old age would be pleasant, yes, and a quiet, happy 

time, too, 
If dear friends were all around us, and we had not 

much to do. 
But when so many friends are gone and we see each 

face no more, 
Oh! then we get so burdened down, and our hearts 

so sick and sore. 



THE PENSIVE PENDULUM 



59 



Sometimes like old Elijah, we think it best that we 

should die, 
It seems we can't hear up much longer, no need for 

us to try ; 

For our health is so broken dowwu, and our race is 
nearly run ; 

Like the day that is almost gone, at the setting of 
the sun. 

Again we take fresh courage and aim to fight the 

battle through ; 
We'll try to meet what's before us, like a soldier 

brave and true, 
Then it seems that we catch a gleam from a bright 

eternal day, 
And the sunshine out of heaven drives our gloomy 

thoughts away. 

We may feel that death were nearing, by faith we 

look over the tide, 
It seems we get a glimpse of home, where we can 

forever abide 
With the redeemed of all ages and with our lost 

friends so dear; 
Where we will never know a heartache and never 

shed a tear. 

The old, like the sun must go down, but for a bright- 
er dawning; 

Evening's here, the night is near, but there'll be a 
brighter morning. 

Where we can live forever, and bright day will al- 
ways last, 

Then old age, sorow, sickness and death will be 
thing;-: of the past. 



WORDS AND ACTIONS 

'Tis right to say we're living for God 
And in the road the prophets trod ; 
And that our train just tracks the rail. 
But how we live will tell the tale. 



60 THE PENSIVE PENDULUM 



'Tis not just what we say we are, 
That will stand at the Judgment bar; 
'Twill take something that will not fail, 
And how we have lived tells the tale. 

Oh, we may claim to be all right, 
And think our sins are hid from sight; 
The hills of God we may not scale 
The way we live will tell the tale. 

We ought not treat our neighbor wrong, 
But try to help him get along; 
Just follow in the Savior's trail, 
For the way we live tells the tale. 

'Tis true, we must be born again, 
But something else is also plain; 
Treat others right and do not fail, 
For the way we live tells the tale. 

'Tis right to be on the lookout, 
And right to get happy and shout; 
The soul on wings of love to sail, 
But how we live will tell the tale. 

We're bound to die sometime, you see, 
Then some will say, "Oh, where is he?" 
We study awhile with faces pale, 
Then say, "His life has told the tale." 



SING ON 

If you will sing some dear, sweet song, 
'Twill cheer some drooping mind; 

Keep singing as you pass along, 
Don't leave your harp behind. 

'Tho' some days are sacl, dark and cold, 
We'll have sunshine again; 

Still sing on, for I have been told, 
That "sunshine follows rain." 



THE PENSIVE PENDULUM 61 



Sing on, though many friends are gone, 

Let sweet songs still be heard ; 
Sing on, when sad and all alone, 

Like "The Blind Island Bird." 

That island bird had lost his home, 

And his sweet freedom, too ; 
But as dark days would go and come, 

He sang the song he knew. 

His eyes were out, but still he'd sing, 
Sometimes his voice would lower; 

lie sang on, his cage would ring, 
'Till his sad life was o'er. 

Though many things seem hard to bear, 

And. troubles on you pour, 
Sing on about your home o'er there, 

Where troubles come no more. 

That home's so 'bright, that home's so sweet 

Let's to the Savior cling; 
Up there is where our friends we'll meet, 

Oh ! do -look up and sing. 

They sing up in heaven, they say, 

Oh, yes, the angels sing; 
We'll join in with them some sweet day 

And help make heaven ring. 



BE READY. 

? Tis written in the Bible so plain, 
Written that "we must be born again," 
Then take hold and hold on to God's hand, 
Or we cannot reach the Promised Land. 

And I sure believe 

That soon we will leave, 
God says in His Word to "be ready." 



We're only human, and not divine; 
Let's try to follow along the line 
That Jesus made a long time ago, 



62 THE PENSIVE PENDULUM 



When in human flesh down here below; 

For we're going away, 

And going to stay; 
Let's reach for God's hand and get ready. 

Of course, sometimes, Ave may miss the mark, 
By the lamp of life's glimmering spark; 
But let's always aim for higher ground, 
Where perfect rest will one day be found; 

When our days are o'er 

We'll be here no more; 
Let's hold to God's hand and be ready. 

Why not follow the steps of our Lord; 
The way's written so plain in His Word ; . 
Then when we come to Jordan's cold tide 
Our Savior will be there by our side. 

Though Jordan may roll, 

It can't harm the soul, 
The boatman runs the boat so steady. 

If Ave have no guide Ave '11 lose our Avay, 
To the land of peace and endless day; 
[f ( hrist is our Guide Ave need not fear, 
Though none of us can stay always here ; 

And we need not try, 

For Ave 're born to die; 
It stands us in hand to be ready. 



BY WHICH ARE YOU LED? 

Two things are leading the human race, 
Leading us on to some other place, 
We are led by one or by -the other, 
Oh, Iioav is it with you, my brother? 
Oh, Blessed Leader, Spirit Divine, 
Do ahvays stay in this heart of mine ! 

One leads us up the bright hills of God, 
Along the paths that the prophets trod; 
The other leads aAvay doAvn beloAV, 
Where eternal fires forever gloAV. - 
Holy Spirit, Comforter of mine, 
Oh/l know Thou art something Divine! 



THE PENSIVE PENDULUM 63 



The Good Spirit leads us to do right, 

Leads on toward the Land of Delight ; 

(Jives us a peace the world cannot destroy, 

A joy unlike any earthly joy. 

And it makes us not afraid to die, 

And leads us to that bright home on high. 

It leads up higher, from sin set free, 
Toward that home that I long to see; 
It may lead us up the steep hillside, 
And lead us on through Death's rolling tide, 
The soul then takes wings and flies away, 
To live with God throughout endless day. 

The Bad Spirit leads us to do wrong, 

And if we are led so very long, 

It will lead us on just by degrees, 

Until Conscience stings us like mad bees. . 

At last we will sink to rise no more, 

But in flames sink lower and lower. 

Oh, Bad Spirit, destroyer of hope, 
You cause people in darkness to grope; 
You lead them along, lead them right on- 
Lead them so far and then they are gone. 
You lead from God, you lead them astray, 
Lead them on down with demons to stay. 



MY AIM. 

I'm aiming for Heaven, 

I'm looking that way; 
My sins are forgiven, 

I'm going home some day. 
I'll follow on the track 

Til] I follow it there,, 
I will never come back, 

Don't think I will want to. 

Sometimes I think it best, 
My life was all behind; 

For I often long for rest, 
Rest for body and mind. 



(i-i THE PENSIVE PENDULUM 



I am ready to go, 

Bu1 1 linger and wait, 

I pray and I watch, so 
That I'll not be too late. 

I think if I should fail 

To reach my Heavenly home, 
I'd hear so many a wail, 

And see the billows foam; 
I'd sink where demons stay, 

And I would stay there, too, 
Where Satan holds the sway, 

I'd be one of his crew. 

But oh! I can't afford 

To miss my Heavenly home ; 
To live there with my Lord, 

And with the angels roam. 
We'll meet with many a friend, 

The joy will be sublime ; 
Up there bright day won't end, 

'Twill be a blessed time. 



WE'RE BORN TO DIE. 

We are all born to die, 

Death will soon lay us low; 
The time is drawing nigh, 

When we'll be called to go; 
We don't know when 'twill be, 

It might be any day; 
But we can plainly see 

That none have long to stay. 

Some may not fear to die, 

lint we all dread the pain; 
Our friends may mourn and cry; 

But we'll die just the same. 
"When all our days are o'er, 

We'll lose this fleeting breath; 
Our hearts will beat no more, 

Our eyes be closed in death. 



THE PENSIVE PENDULUM 65 



We know we were born to die. 

Grime death will claim us all, 
He'll call for you and I, 

And we'll obey that call; 
Our friends will turn away, 

When they can do no more ; 
We can no longer stay, 

Our life on earth is o'er. 

We all are bound to die, 

And leave our earthly friends; 
Yes, sometime, bye and bye, 

We'll go where life ne'er ends; 
When earthly temples fail, 

The soul will soar away, 
And like an eagle sail 

Above the storms to stay. 



LOOKING HOMEWARD. 

I'm looking homeward o'er the sea, 
Where there's a home for you and me; 
You may think your home's all right here 
Some day 'twill be so sad and drear. 

I'm looking homeward o'er the river, 
Where the redeemed can live forever; 
Where never a cloud will dim the sky, 
Never a friend will say good-bye. 

I'm looking homeward o'er the tide, 
Looking for a place to abide; 
For oh, storms here are so severe ! 
And I see that we can't stay here. 

I'm looknig homeward still today, 
For my days are slipping away; 
I want to live where days don't end, 
And where is gone so many a friend. 

I'm looking homeward, shedding tears, 
Thinking of troubles and of fears; 
Thinking of storms that yet may come, 
Before we reach our final home. 



66 THE PENSIVE PENDULUM 



I'm looking homeward! oh, 'lis grand 
To think of home in heavenly land, 
Where we will meet with many a friend, 
In a world where pleasures ne'er end. 

I'm looking homeward — I can't stay 
Here, where all things so soon decay; 
I'll soon be where I'll have no fears, 
Where God will wipe away all tears. 



WHEN YOU SEE YOU MUST DIE. 

You may slight God's offered mercy, and wade thru 

mother's prayer, 
You may roam thru fields of sin, as you find them 

here and there ; 
You may value sinful pleasures more than all things 

else on high, 
But oh, you'll want to be a Christian when you're 

called to die! 

You may be afraid of Jesus, afraid He'll spoil your 
fun, 

You do not want Him now until your race you've 
run ; 

But when you see your health is failing, you'll be- 
gin to sigh, 

For you'll want the blessed Jesus when you see you 
must die. 

Time rushes us along so fast, life quickly flies away, 

It won't be long, not very long, until your dying day. 

No time to spare, no time to waste, for time is rush- 
ing by, 

And you'll want to be a Christian when you see you 
must die. 

The way we ought to live is with the Savior by our 

side, 
And when His Holy Spirit comes, just ask Him to 

abide ; 
Oh, what a blessed thing it will be for you by and by 
For you'll want to be a Christian when you see you 

must die. 



THE PENSIVE PENDULUM 67 



O mortal man, how will it be to die away from God, 
To become cold and lifeless, then to be laid under 

sod; 
Then by and by be called up to that judgment bar 

on high, 
Then you'll wish you'd been a Christian before you 

had to die. 

Do you e'er think of how you'll feel when with that 

mighty throng, 
You are called up to judgment, when you know you 

have lived wrong; 
It will be too late then for you to pray or weep or 

cry, _ 
How it will be with you then is owing to how you die 

'Twill be enough to make us tremble when our sins 

are revealed, 
And to feel and know that our awful doom's already 

sealed; 
Just how it will be then and there, with us, when 

we are tried, 
Will certainly depend upon how we have lived and 

died. 

You had better live a Christian, and then you'll die 

the same, 
Oh, accept the blessed Jesus! oh, praise His Holy 

name ! 
And when your days on earth are past, and night is 

drawing nigh, 
You will be ready then to go where they nevermore 

die. 



WHERE IS GOD? 

Near the end of the road that phophets trod 
Is a wonderful Being that's called God; 
But the end of the road, where can it be? 
God and that road mortal eyes can not see. 

The Bible says that Heaven is His throne; 
And it is founded on most precious stone, 



68 THE PENSIVE PENDULUM 



But we don't know wliere that great throne stands, 
But it must be somewhere in unknown lands. 

Long years ago in the Garden He walked, 

And to Adam and Eve He stopped and talked; 

Until Satan did the woman deceive, 

Then they all from the Garden took their leave. 

Sometimes at evening, while twilight lingers, 
I see the stars, the work of His fingers, 
I think indeed He must be up so high, 
To fix them, away in yon blue sky. 

He rides on the clouds, and walks on the wind, 
Me would have stayed with us had we not sinned, 
But we were so wicked it grieved His heart, 
And many will hear the sad words, ''Depart. 



< > 



But we can see mysteries everywhere ; 

It seems that God is in the very air 

We breathe, for in some solemn, prayerful hour, 

We so plainly feel His soul-stirring power. 

God is in some hearts, He is in the room, 
And He has power to drive away the gloom, 
God is love; ah, you need not look about, 
He's everywhere sin doesn't crowd Him out. 

Give Him your heart, He'll wash away your sin, 
His blessed love will then come flowing in; 
You need not hunt the road the prophets trod, 
For right with you will be your loving God. 



LET YOUR LIGHT SHINE. 

Time is rushing us on 

Either to Heaven or to Hell ; 
We know that very soon 

We will somewhere else dwell. 
We're only pilgrims here, 

Just passing through this land; 
We need lights bright and clear 

To reach the golden strand. 



THE PENSIVE PENDULUM 69 



Christ says "we are the light," 

If God your lamp has lit, 
Oh, why not hold it right? 

Or it won't shine a bit. 
I think you surely could 

Hold your little light, 
It might do so much good, 

To those lost in the night. 

Hold up your little light, 

Where'er you pass along; 
To show which way is right — 

Some ways, you know, are wrong, 
When trav'ling in the dark, 

Hold up your little light, 
So we can see the spark, 

Through the dark, lonesome night. 

When climbing up the hill 

Or walking on the plain, 
Oil, let your light shine still, 

In sunshine or in rain ! 
Let your little light shine, 

Though storms around you sweep, 
Do not languish or pine 

Though the waters are deep. 

Hold your light higher still, 

And when the prize you've won, 
God will your lamp so fill 

That you'll outshine the sun. 
Your Savior won't deny 

You, on the golden shore, 
You'll shine as stars on high, 

And shine forevermore. 



THINKING OF HEAVEN. 

I often think of Heaven somewhere; 
When I leave here, let me go there* 
For there is where I want to spend 
Sweet, happy days that never end. 



70 THE PENSIVE PENDULlAl 



I often think of Heaven— on high, 
Where our dear friends will never die, 
We have some friends up there, I know, 
And there is where I want to go. 

I often think of Heaven — sweet home, 
Where with angels our dear ones roam; 
If we can ever Heaven gain, 
There we will meet with them again. 

I often think of Heaven — above, 
That land of peace and perfect love; 
Where we the Savior shall behold 
And walk with Him on streets of gold. 

I often think of Heaven- — God's throne, 
Where sickness never will be known ; 
Some sweet day that land shall be ours, 
Where there are ever-blooming flowers. 

I often think of Heavenly days, 
When we can stay with friend- always; 
Not one suffers and never will, 
And perfect peace our hearts will fill. 

I often think of heaven so grand, 
That blessed, sweet and sinless land, 
Where we can stay with friends so dear, 
Who in our homes once lived down here. 

I often think of Heaven — sweet thought, 
The place that pilgrims long have sought 
If we can reach that happy shore, 
There we can rest forevermore. 

Oh, yes, some day we're going there, 
To that pure, happy home — somewhere; 
Away beyond this world we'll soar, 
To live with God forevermore. 



THINGS THAT ARE NOT IN HEAVEN. 

No sin will be in Heaven, no temptation there, 
No burdens there so hard to bear; 



THE PENSIVE PENDULUM 71 



Heaven is so bright, so pure, so clean, 
The like on earth has ne'er been seen. 

No clouds shall be in Heaven to dim the sky, 
For Grod is in that home on high; 
Sometime, yes, when we've run this earthly race, 
We will behold His smiling face. 

"No night shall be in Heaven, no darkness, no, 
God's glory will forever glow; 
His smiles up there will never fade away, 
His gloy makes Eternal Day. 

No sickness in Heaven; no faces pale; 
No poisonous air there to inhale ; 
There'll be no parting there, no sad farewell, 
Where the redeemed will always dwell. 

No death shall be in Heaven, no withered flowers, 
No troubles there, no lonesome hours, 
But peace and happiness flow through the soul, 
While songs and shouts through Heaven roll. 

No death shall be in Heaven, no need of biers, 
No sorrow there, no shedding tears; 
There'll be no gloomy nights, no aching heart, 
Where dear friends will nevermore part. 

It has never entered into the mind 
The things that God, so good and kind, 
Has already prepared for those He loves, 
In that bright home up there above. 



NO DREAD IN HEAVEN. 

(Composed when war and the influenza were raging) 

This land is full of sin, 

Seems the air is tainted; 
So many wars have been, 

Fields with blood been painted; 
The boys are gone we love, 
Some numbered with the dead; 



THE PENSIVE PENDULUM 



But in that land above 

There's nothing there to dread. 

Oft through the night we wake, 

While bloody war is on; 
It seems our heart will break, 

For many boys are gone; 
But they will fight no more, 

No fields be colored red 
O'er on the Heavenly shore, 

Where there will be no dread. 

A dread is on our minds, 

There's trouble in this land; 
Sickness of many kinds, 

And death on every hand; 
But no pale, sickly face, 

No hot and aching head, 
Up in that happy place, 

Where there will be no dread. 

Ah, we drop many a tear 

Along the paths we tread, 
For there's sorrow down here, 

Yes, and things that we dread ; 
But don't you understand 

That teai's arc never shed 
In that bright, happy land 

Where there will be no dread! 

Some may have homes so fine, 

Built on a lovely scene; 
No matter how they shine, 

Some trouble can get in; 
But, oh, the homes of some, 

How cold and hard their bed ! 
But in that Heavenly home, 

Bless God, there'll be no dread. 



THIS IS NOT OUR ABIDING PLACE. 

Sometime we're going home — 
Yes, nevermore to roam, 



THE PENSIVE PENDULUM 73 



Up to that home on high, 
Where one will never die. 

To live forevermore 

With friends who've gone on before, 

O'er on the golden shore 

Our troubles will be o'er. 

We'll sing and shout and soar, 
While pleasures pour and pour, 

Sometimes they go slower, 
And voices somewhat lower. 

Till we touch harps of gold 
With hands that never grow old, 
The sight we shall behold, 
The rapture can't be told. 

Then where the angels dwell, 
The tide begins to swell, 
Flowing from living wells, 
Sweet as songs of philomels. 

All human tongues can't tell, 
That sound o'er hill and dell, 
Why one his soul should sell 
For naught, and sink in hell. 

When there's such a place above, 
Where all is peace and love ; 
There live our friends so dear — 
There'll be no farewell tear. 



Oh, what a thought sublime! 
And what a joy divine! 
Yes, what a peace is mine ! 
We're going there to shine. 



DREAMY THOUGHTS. 

I dreamed, oh, it seemed a sweet dream ! 

T dreamed that life on earth was o'er; 
1 dreamed I crossed the silent stream, 

And I would never suffer more. 



74 THE PENSIVE PENDULUM 



I dreamed I'd reached my long-sought home, 
Where live the friends of long ago; 

I could with them and angels roam, 
I would be glad that dream was so. 

I dreamed I'd found a place to rest, 
Where I could rest and toil no more, 

Where nothing could ever molest, 

While unmixed pleasures pour and pour. 

I seemed to see the ocean of love, 

It looked like snow mingled with fire; 

They bathe in it, those souls above, 

Then their shouts would rise higher and higher. 

I seemed to see our dear Jesus, 

Yes, and he looked at us and smiled; 

How sweet that smile did relieve us, 
For I was God's adopted child. 

I seemed to see the River of Life, 

That still flows out and stops no never, 

Prom that country that knows no strife, 
Where we can drink and live forever. 

I seemed to see my loved ones, 

All dressed in pure and glittering white; 
Their faces shine like the sun, 

What a beautiful, lovely sight! 

Oh, if I could dream that dream forever! 

Or if that dream Avas only true, 
And all at home to part no never, 

And always live where angels do. 



THE RIVER OF DEATH. 

The River of Death may be cold, 
It will freeze us to death ; 

'Tis true we may be bold, 
But there we'll lose our breath; 

But we shall live again, 
Beyond the rolling tide, 



THE PENSIVE PENDULUM 



Upon the golden plain, 
Or into Hell we'll glide. 

Sometime, we don't know when, 

We'll cross the silent River"; 
And we'll be leaving then, 

Yes, to be gone forever; 
Ge1 ready for the journey, 

Have Jesus by your side. 
He'll be your attorney, 

His arms are open wide. 

Oh, the dark, silent stream! 

Sometimes its waves run high; 
And, oh, sometimes it seems 

To be xevy nigh! 
'Tis rolling at our very feet, 

'Tis sweeping things away, 
It settles our case complete, 

'Twill steal your soul away. 

Death is the boundary line 

'Tween this and home on high; 
'Twill be your lot and mine 

To cross it by and by; 
It is the boundary, too, 

Between this earth and Hell; 
Be careful what you do, 

Or there's where you will dwell 

Our destiny is fixed 

When we cross o'er that flood; 
Our joys will be unmixed 

If washed in Jesus' blood. 
Let's walk the narrow way, 

If sins are all forgiven, 
We'll reach our home some day, 

And be at home in Heaven. 



WHERE WILL YOU CROSS? 

(In my dreams I have pictured death as a river 
which flows between earth and Heaven, and between 



7G THE PENSIVE PENDULUM 



earth and Hell, the falls being at that gulf which 
cannot be crossed, and which is fixed between 
Heaven and Hell.) 

- r * 

Death is a river which we must cross 

Whose waters seem to be so cold, 
Sometime we'll on its billows toss, 

'Tis out in front of young and old. 
Let me be 'way about the falls, 

And cross in sight of pearly gates, 
Through which we are going, great and small, 

Where many a loved one awaits. 
Oh, let me cross high up the river, 

Where guilty conscience ne'er was known! 
That stream from pain does deliver 

Us, and then God will take His own. 
Lord, let me be high up the stream, 

'And cross in sight of something grand, 
The reason this is like a dream, 

'Tis something we don't understand. 
"Death," they say, "is only a dream," 

'Tis a drink of bitterest gall; 
It is a cold, dark, piercing stream, 

It ends life on this earthly ball. 
There soul and body will sever, 

Our bodies will grow cold and still; 
Lord, let me cross high up the river, 

In sight of the Heavenly hills. 
I want to be high up the stream, 

A 1 id cross in sight of jasper walls, 
So that I can catch a gleam 

As the shade of death o'er me falls. 
Ah ! death is a pain reliever, 

When we slip off the earthly sand, 
If we cross high up the river, 

Holding to our dear Savior's hand. 
Lord, help me high up the stream! 

Do let me cross in sight of Heaven! 
Sometimes I get glimpses, it seems, 

Of where bright, endless day is given. 
Oh, let me cross high up the river! 

Cross in sight of the g,olden strand, 
For I want to live there forever, 

Away up on the Heavenly land. 



ME PENSIVE PENDULUM 11 



[f we should cross below the falls, 

I fear we'd be in sight of Hell; 
But, alas! the worst of it all, 

We'd go there forever to dwell. 
Oh, let me cross high up the river, 

With my Savior by my side. 
I want to be with Him forever, 

And in that Heavenly home abide. 



WHEN TIME SHALL BE NO MORE. 

That angel comes and stands 
One foot upon the land 
And one upon the sea — 
What a time it will be. — 
And cries with lion's roar 
That time shall be no more. 

He'll be clothed with a cloud; 
His voice will be so loud, 
With rainbow on his head, 
He will call up the dead; 
We'll meet Christ in the air, 
Or we'll sink in despair. 

An awful time with some! 
When Christ and angels come, 
The trump of God will sound, 
Waking nations under ground; 
The earth will be a-quake, 
When saints of God awake. 

We'll hear the thunder roar, 

That time shall be no more; 

A quaking will be felt, 

The elements will melt, 

Oh, yes, I will repeat 

They'll melt with fervent heat. 

When time shall be no more, 
The One we do adore 
Is coming back again, 
With a Heavenly train, 



78 THE PENSIVE PENDULl \I 



To take His children home 
Where troubles never come. 

When time is at an end, 
When our dear Lord descends, 
If our sins are forgiven, 
He'll take us home to Heaven 
To live with Him forever, 
Where friends will part no never 



UNDER THE SOD. 

There's a city just under the sod, 
The people's souls are now gone to God; 
While some of their friends may be weeping, 
Their bodies are there peacefully sleeping. 

There are such cities, both far and near, 
That have been watered with many a tear; 
Many a sad crowd has lingered there, 
While snow and sleet drifted thru the air. 

There 'is a city just under the hill; 

The people are so quiet and still ; 

Oh, just watch that city grow and spread, 

'Tis the silent City of the Dead. 

There's a city just under the soil, 
The people there are now free from toil ; 
Their life on earth can't be amended, 
For time with them has surely ended. 

There's a city just under the flowers, 
Where some friends are of yours and of ours ; 
We never have forgotten the day 
That we went there to lay -them away. 

They were taken there by weeping friends, 
We'll be with them soon as our time ends, 
Then we will be laid down by their side, 
And to unknown lands our souls will glide. 



THE PENSIVE PENDULUM 79 



There 's a city just under the ground, 
Where many a bone could now be found, 
They are there awaiting the Judgment Day, 
Then they all will leave their bed of clay. 

All our bodies that lie under ground 
Some day a\ ill hear that loud trumpet sound; 
In that city will be a mighty stir, 
And all will leave the cold city here. 

Those who have been washed in Jesus' blood 
Will rise up above, to be with God ; 
The rest will sink down away below, 
Down where all the bad will surely go. 



A WONDERFUL PLACE. 

I think Heaven must be a wonderful plaee, 
I'm aiming to see at the end of the race; 
I'm trying to travel the Heavenly road; 
I don't want to miss that Heavenly abode. 

I think Heaven must be a wonderful land, 
Just where it is we can not now understand; 
'Tis where the River of Life doth forever flow ; 
The thorn and the thistle up there don't grow. 

Oh, what a wonderful place Heaven must be! 
Ah, the saints of all ages in Heaven we '11 see, 
And there are the dear old friends of long ago, 
With glittering garments, yes, whiter than snow. 

I think Heaven must be a wonderful home, 
Where nothing to trouble us ever can come ; 
No lonesome nights, the sun will never go down, 
We'll exchange our Cross for a beautiful Crown. 

Oh, sweet Heaven must be a wonderful place; 
Inhabited by an immortal race ; 
I'm only waiting here for my soul's release, 
Then I want to go up there to that land of peace. 



80 THE PENSIVE PENDULUM 



MY CONSOLATION. 

There is a home in Heaven, 

A home up there for me; 
If L can reach that home, 

How happy I will be ; 
My toils will then be o'er, 

All troubles left behind, 
Just such a home on earth 

We'll never, never find. 

No death will be in Heaven, 

No sickness in that land, 
We'll meet with many a friend, 

Clasp their immortal hand; 
Up where we'll never part, 

With friends so good and kind, 
But such a place on earth 

We needn't expect to find. 

"No night in Heaven," they say, 

No clouds to dim the sun, 
For 'tis the smiling face 

Of that dear Holy One. 
The thought of that sweet place 

Attracts my wandering mind, 
But such a place on earth 

We'll never, never find. 

In those heavenly homes, 

Those homes above the storm, 
Is many a loved one 

That helps make Heaven a charm 
So dear and near they seemed, 

Around our hearts entwined; 
When we reach Heaven's plains 

Some dear ones there Ave '11 find. 

Oh, the sweet hope of Heaven, 

The anchor of my soul! 
Altho I'm tossed and driven, 

1 soon shall reach the goal; 
Ere long this heart shall cease, 

My soul shall soar above 
To that sweet home of peace, 

Of rest and perfect love. 



THE PENSIVE PENDULUM 81 

FAREWELL. 

I soon will bid farewell 

To time and things below; 
Just why I can not tell, 

But seems I want to go, 
To find a better clime, 

Somewhere among the blest, 
I think 'twould be sublime 

To find sweet, perfect rest, 

These homes are good enough, 

But there's a better one; 
Sometimes the way seems rough, 

-Oh, if the prize was Avon ! 
What joy to think of home, 

That home beyond the skies, 
Where troubles never come 

And where none ever dies. 

We'll meet no more down here; 

Farewell, dear friends, farewell; 
Trust God and never fear, 

We'll meet where angels dwell; 
We'll walk the streets of gold 

With friends of long ago ; 
Where all the saints of old 

Are living now, I know. 

'Tis sad for friends to part, 

To meet no more down here ; 
Like tearing out the heart 

To part with friends so dear. 
Though here our hearts may bleed, 

At the Judgment there'll be 
Long, sad partings, indeed, 

They'll be final, you see. 

Farewell, dear friends, farewell; 

I lay my pencil by; 
For none of us can tell 

What moment we may die. 
I hope your hearts are pure, 

And hope you are my friends — 
I know I'm one of yours, 

And will be till life ends. 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

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